


Time Is on My Side (Yes It Is)

by Faustess



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Romance, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark, Period Typical Attitudes, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Swearing, Time Travel, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Touching, Wartime Romance, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: Tony Stark had plans for the rest of his day that hadn't involved being sentsomewherein time byredactedReed Richards.Sergeant Bucky Barnes had enough to do keeping Steve "let's punch it 'til the problem's gone" Rogers alive. He just needed to reconnect with the Howlies and they'd move onto their next mission.Neither man's life is quite going to plan when they meet one night during an enemy bombing raid.  Will they be able to keep their fledgling romance alive despite all the wartime secrets and separations? Does changing the past also change the future?  With these two, nothing ever comes easily.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 104
Kudos: 233
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2020





	1. What Fresh Hell Is This?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for "Time Is on My Side (Yes It Is)" by Faustess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348508) by [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet). 



I had a horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I went... back in time. It was terrible.  
**\--Marty McFly, Back to the Future**

Before he could protest, Tony Stark found himself with a mouth full of cold saltwater. _What the ever-loving fuck, Richards?!_ he thought to himself. Those thoughts flashed through his mind, but were rapidly surpassed by the burning in his lungs and the compulsion to take a breath. Tony cringed inwardly, but opened his eyes and pulled himself as best he could toward what he thought was the surface of the water.

Abruptly, he felt wet sand under his hands. Air filled his lungs even as the icy tide threatened to pull him back to deeper water and he clawed the wet sand to pull himself out of danger. The air temperature around him didn’t change much for being out of the water and Tony’s teeth started chattering almost immediately.

Tony forced himself to stand up and move – drawing from the same source of willpower he’d used when crossing the desert in Afghanistan. He refused to die on this icy beach – where it was cold enough the seafoam was freezing onto the debris littering the beach. Teeth chattering, he put one foot after another and trudged his way up the bluff.

Once at the top, Tony looked around. Not too far in the distance, he could see a few stone cottages clumped together in what could generously be called a village and decided to head in that direction. He didn’t notice until he got closer that there was no smoke curling from the chimneys. Still, he had nowhere else to go, and maybe even if there weren’t any people, there might be dry clothes or a blanket – _something._

At least the snow wasn’t too deep. _Damn, it was cold._ Tony wished, not for the first time since arriving, that he’d been at least wearing a jacket or long sleeves, but summer in New York could be sweltering and he hadn’t wanted to wear anything that might get caught in the mechanism of one of Reed ‘needs an expletive exponentially worse than motherfucker’ Richards’s inventions.

And Tony hadn’t really expected Richards’s piece of crap to _work_ — Richards built a shit-ton of stuff that failed spectacularly – he was just better known for the things that had worked. Tony should have known, though. His new PA had read him his horoscope and warned him to stay home. “In the middle of the week, the moon is going to have a very negative influence on you. It’ll make you impatient and nervous, so use caution in all business dealings – especially with rivals.” So, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been warned, but _still_.

Tony shoved the unproductive thoughts aside and tried to jog the rest of the way to the village – both to keep moving and to try to keep his limbs warm. Stumbling over the frozen ground, Tony got to the first house and knocked on the door. Nothing. He peeked in the window, but couldn’t detect any sign of life. The same at the next house and the next. In ten, maybe fifteen minutes, Tony had been to all the houses in the small settlement – no one home anywhere. No one to be found in the fields, garages, or sheds either.

In fact, the only living things Tony saw on his search of the tiny community were a small flock of sparrows. They seemed happy enough. The snow must be fairly fresh, because his own footprints were the only signs of human activity. No other footprints or tire tracks. So, it was unlikely to bother anyone if he went inside, right? He was cold and it was eerie as hell standing out here alone.

Tony picked a house at random and tried the knob. The door opened easily enough. Taking a breath, Tony went inside and closed the door behind him. Inside, he’d stepped into the main living area with a large (cold) fireplace with a dining table and a kitchen corner at the back. At least there wasn’t any wind blowing through, though, so it felt warmer – even if it wasn’t. The floorplan was simple and reminded him of Old World Europe in its simplicity.

He didn’t see anyone inside either, alive or dead. _Well, I don’t really have a choice_ , Tony thought to himself as he climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, looking for something dry to wear. In a wardrobe, he found some clothes that were very dated, but he put them on anyway, then pulled the somewhat lumpy quilt off the bed, wrapping it around himself, and went back downstairs.

In the living area again, Tony put the blanket on the couch and began trying to get a fire started in the stove. Newspaper, small twigs, and kindling were all neatly tucked into a metal basket. He found matches in a teacup on the mantel. As he tried to get the fire going, he decided the clothes weren’t as uncomfortable as he had thought they’d be, considering all the wool in the pants and sweater. It did help that his body temperature had probably dropped measurably. His skin was probably too numb to feel the scratchiness.

When the flames began to flicker to life, Tony brought a chair and the blanket closer to the fire and sat down to warm up and think about what to do next. He needed to know where he was, then tackle the when, and how to get home. _Easy-peasy._

First, though, he’d have to see if there was any food around, because this was all kind of Twilight Zone right now. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it, but right now Tony was too cold to figure it out. He added larger fuel logs to the fire and replaced the fireplace screen. When he sat down again, he made sure the blanket was well away from any sparks that might make it past the screen. The warmth starting to seep into his body tingled unpleasantly, but also made him sleepy. Tony was exhausted, so he let sleep take him, confident that the fire would stay lit.

When he woke again, it was light out, but Tony had to gauge by the fire to figure out how much time had passed. Flames still lapped at the larger pieces of wood, which were charred considerably. So, same day at least. One of the logs popped in the fireplace loudly enough to startle him. _That must be what woke me up._

Tony stretched and looked around. “Well, let’s see if there’s anything to eat around here.” He was so used to talking to the bots while working, that he didn’t immediately notice he was just talking to himself.

A head of cabbage and two potatoes was all his search turned up – and that was only after he’d looked in the basement. “I wouldn’t call this a basement – more like a root cellar – a basement, only damper and creepier.” Climbing the stairs, he mumbled to himself, “Alrighty then. We’ll be going back outside a lot sooner than I’d hoped, but I guess we can’t help that.”

Tony found a coat that was too long in the sleeves and boots that felt like they were half a size too small. With a pair of wool socks, they pinched worse than the Italian handmade shoes Pepper had bought him for Christmas two years ago. He added another log to the fire, just in case he was gone longer than expected, and went back out to search the other houses.

“Hello?” he called again, hoping against hope that someone had returned.

After a long moment of silence, Tony pulled the coat tighter around himself and trudged to the next house down on the same side of the lane. At that house, he found a rucksack that weighed ten pounds empty, but the thick canvas was still good and felt like it might even have been waterproofed. He couldn’t find any food, though.

As Tony made his way through the houses in the hamlet, he found a few more potatoes, a full bunch of carrots, a canister of flour, and what he thought was home-dried fruit. He also found a scarf, a pair of green mittens, a man’s hat that fit fairly well and didn’t smell _too_ much like that stuff Howard used to put in his hair. Between all the houses, he was also able to assemble a couple of other changes of clothes.

Walking back to what he’d already started to think of as ‘his’ house, Tony had a chilling thought. What if he hadn’t just moved in time and space? What if Richards’s hunk of junk had taken him to somewhere else completely in the multiverse? Standing wherever the hell he was, the multiverse theory seemed a lot less far-fetched than it had, oh, fifteen minutes ago when his thoughts were occupied by the fact that his scarf and mittens clashed and wondering whether or not he’d ruin the potatoes by trying to bake them by the fire.

He unpacked his new acquisitions and hung his coat and other warm clothes up to make sure they stayed dry. The cold water tap in the kitchen worked, at least. Tony scrubbed the potatoes and tried not to think about the fact that the piping in this house was very likely made of lead. Then, he nestled a small cast iron pan into the coals that had fallen through the grate in the fireplace, set the potatoes inside, and hoped for the best.

It was then that Tony had the presence of mind to check the fragments of newspaper with the tinder to see if he could figure out where and when he was. No date - the paper’s header had been removed by previous occupants - but the paper was in French. A French newspaper somewhere cold, but not mountainous led him to believe this was probably France – over, say, Morocco. The pieces of articles didn’t provide much more information since they were incomplete. Someone’s daughter was going to be married. _Good for her._

While waiting for his potatoes to bake, Tony went over his mental checklist again. Things needed for survival: cold weather clothing and/or shelter – check. Water – check (he’d worry about the lead contamination later). Food – check. He had something for now, but for long-term survival, he’d have to scavenge farther afield or move on to another settlement.

Well, at least right now it wasn’t so bad. Kidnapped in Afghanistan, the whole Chitauri thing, palladium poisoning, Aldrich Killian and Extremis, _Ultron_ … Tony Stark had been in a lot of horrible situations before. _Every. Single. Fucking. Time._ he’d thought it was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. In the scheme of Tony Stark disasters, this honestly wasn’t too bad.

 _You’re being overly optimistic, Stark,_ he told himself. “What the hell do you do with cabbage?” Tony said aloud – the non sequitur looping back to his thoughts about the foodstuffs he’d been able to find. Pacing around, he continued that thought, “Well, there’s egg rolls – no can do. Sauerkraut – don’t know where to start with that and I’d rather not, right? And chow mein stir fries… again, no. Oh, and coleslaw, but we’re out of Miracle Whip, damn.” Not that he was really sorry, he didn’t like cabbage much and this was the most he’d probably ever thought about that particular cruciferous vegetable.

Tony dropped into the chair by the fire. Nothing else to do at present but wait. Or rather, he had too many conflicting thoughts and needed to figure out where to start. He leaned over and added another log to the fire, then wrapped his hand with his shirttail and pulled the pan with his potatoes farther away from the heat.

Settling back into the chair, Tony thought aloud, “Okay, well, there’s not enough food here, so I’ll need to move on. Not excited about that, but that’s beside the point. I don’t think I’ve got any weird isotopes clinging to me and my phone’s dead, so I can’t assume Richards or anyone else will be able to find me. Probably not enough platinum or other trace metals in the phone’s components to be traceable either. _Maybe_ some of the plastics could be traced, but with so many types of plastic in existence, it’d be hard to find the small amount in the phone – especially if I’m stuck in some alternate reality.”

He exhaled with a whoosh. “So, I’m on my own in figuring out how to get out of here.” Tony rested his head against the back of the chair, chin tipped up toward the ceiling, his mind still buzzing with thoughts.

“The newspaper looks close enough to a modern paper, so probably twentieth century,” Tony contemplated aloud. The farm equipment he’d seen in the sheds, though, still had wood as a major component, and there wasn’t a phone in town yet, so pre-1950s? “And in that mix, there’s almost ten years of war – and I’m in an abandoned settlement. So, deductive reasoning concludes that we’re probably during one of those war periods. _Fabulous._ ”

The places most likely to be safe were unlikely to be close to places with things even remotely useful for getting back to his present (vacuum tubes, large quantities of electrical wire, etc…). What kind space would he need for all the vacuum tubes? Transistors wouldn’t officially be invented until what? 1947? ’48?

“Fuck vacuum tubes and fuck goddamned transistors,” Tony muttered to himself. “Motherfucking _vacuum tubes!_ ” he growled, bringing his fist down hard on the arm of the chair, which let out a small puff of dust in reply. Of course, what _might_ be possible to construct depended on what kind of materials were actually available here and how long it took him to get his hands on them.

Then Tony got caught up in contemplating the what-if scenario of creating a machine that just moved in physical space with the time remaining constant. Essentially teleportation – or Star Trek’s transporter – something like that.

What he needed was more Dr. Who, though the TARDIS never worked how it was supposed to, anyway. While the Doctor often had particular destinations in mind, he and his companions were travelers – in it for the journey. Tony needed more precision than that. He had to factor in a way to not end up underwater or something too – _Richards_. Even taking time out of that equation, it was still risky. So, a combination of complete, unerring precision and a fuzziness that allowed it to circumvent obstacles in space.

“How hard can it be with fucking _vacuum tubes?!_ ” Tony snarled, feeling slightly – if understandably – hysterical at this point.

The disgusting part was that he was going to need to do all the diagramming and all the equations on _paper_. _What a pain in the ass_ , he groaned inwardly as he checked to see if his baked potatoes were close to being cooked through. _Checking his own work._ He was never going to take FRIDAY for granted again, that was for sure. Assuming he’d be able to get home, of course. Would he be able to get the time close enough? Who’d take care of his bots if he messed up the time and was off by years?

Tony singed his fingers taking the potatoes out of the pan. He was _starving_. When was the last time he’d eaten? Mentally, he retraced his steps and came to a mostly drinkable smoothie that DUM-E had made for him yesterday before he’d gone over to see Reed Richards. The smoothie that had been both the previous night’s dinner and yesterday’s breakfast and lunch. No wonder he was hungry.

Juggling the potatoes between his hands, Tony gave up and finally carried them in his shirt tails, still steaming and hissing. He burned his fingers again setting them on the counter and ran his abused digits under the cold water tap for a few minutes until they started feeling better. “See, Pepper? I totally know first aid. Look at that! Self-care – BAM!”

He sighed, it wasn’t the same without FRIDAY to make smart remarks back at him – or to praise his effort to put the least amount of effort into self-preservation. After drying his hands, he found a plate and silverware, cut up his potatoes, and got a cup of water. Tony took an experimental bite and decided it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever made by far and settled down to eat and take another nap before heading out.

After waking again in the chair by the fire, Tony stretched and packed the rucksack as tightly as he could and included his original clothes. He burned everything with his name on it like his credit cards and driver’s license, but saved his phone. _Just in case_ , he told himself. He also included a washcloth and sliver of soap he’d found by the kitchen sink. Everything else, he’d just have to trust he’d be able to find later – other tools would just be too heavy to carry for any distance.

Taking a deep breath, Tony wrapped up in his cold weather gear and hat as best he could before shouldering the pack. “Here goes nothing.”

He was glad he still had at least some daylight left and wished he had some idea of whether or not there’d be a full moon that night. Tony set out down the lane that wound through the hamlet toward a wider dirt track that he assumed was supposed to be a road that ambled through the countryside. Remembering which direction he’d come from before, Tony started walking down the road in the opposite direction.

Tony had no idea how long he’d been walking when he noticed the black cars approaching in the distance. He honestly wasn’t sure whether to rejoice or dive for cover before the occupants noticed him. Ultimately, he decided in favor of intelligence gathering as well as a possible ride. The shoes had gone from pinching to rubbing raw, to (blessedly) numb with cold and a ride – even a short distance —would be a godsend.

Or at least he thought so until the car and its passengers fully came into view. Red flags with their white and black designs. Occupants with black overcoats with silver buttons and insignia. Tony’s stomach sank and started to turn over on a wave of nausea.

He swallowed convulsively as the cars – there were two – slowed to a stop next to him. “Bonjour monsieur,” the monocled man he assumed was the officer in charge said, the French accented with German.

At least it reminded him to use his French, Tony thought to himself. “Bonjour, officier,” _Hello, officer_ , he replied carefully. The car full of German soldiers must be used to people being afraid of them and Tony hated that they had that power over him, too. _This is not how I’m dying._

The officer questioned him with an amused air, as if terrorizing the French was a quaint pastime. “Qui êtes vous?” _Who are you?_

“Je m’appelle Antoine.” Tony thought fast on his feet. The truth was always the easiest story to sell, after all. Elaborating on the truth so it was believable – that was a skill. “Je suis fermier. Je cherche ma vache. Elle s’est enfuie après le bruit il y a quelques nuits. L’avez-vous vue ?” _I’m a farmer. I’m looking for my cow. She ran away after all the noise a few nights ago. Have you seen her?_ It was the first thing that popped into his head.

The driver snickered. The officer with the monocle turned slowly to look at the driver and quietly said, “Sie nicht unhöflich.” _Don’t be rude._

The smirk dropped off the driver’s face instantly, as though it’d never been there. “Ich entschuldige mich als Kapitän.” _My apologies, Captain._

Tony’s German was decent, even though he hadn’t used it regularly since studying theoretical physics during his MIT days. He’d wanted to make sure nothing had been lost in translation. Rhodey had thought he was crazy. Somehow, the exchange he’d just witnessed did nothing to soothe Tony’s doubts about making it through this encounter alive.

The Captain turned to him again with a patronizing apologetic smile. “Dites-moi, à quoi ressemble votre vache? Peut-être que mes hommes ou moi l’avons vu.” _Tell me, what does your cow look like? Maybe my men or I have seen it._

Tony’s stomach turned again and he had to breathe through his nose and swallow to avoid vomiting on his shoes, or worse, their car – it was close enough to touch if he dared. _What the fuck did he know about cows?_ All he could think of was that stupid nursery rhyme that Ana Jarvis had repeated with him when he was a kid, ‘The House that Jack Built.’ Mouth so dry he was surprised any sound came out at all, Tony replied, “Elle est rouge avec une corne bouclée.” _She’s red with a curly horn._ Tony pantomimed a horn that curled under.

The Captain glanced at the driver and repeated the exchange in German for the benefit of the car’s other occupants. The driver shook his head and the men in the back seat also replied in the negative. He turned again to Tony and relayed the information, “Non, on ne l’a pas vue. Bonne chance pour votre recherche, Monsieur Antoine.” _No, we haven't seen her. Good luck with your search, Mister Antoine._

Tony nodded and tipped his hat. “Merci, bon voyage.” _Thank you, have a good journey._ He shifted his pack that had long ago begun to dig into his shoulders. Standing still for this long made it feel even heavier.

“Soyez à l’affût de toute personne suspecte.” _Be on the lookout for anyone suspicious_ , the Captain responded. Studying him for a second that felt like eternity stretched on its tiptoes, the Captain then nodded abruptly and brushed the brim of his hat before gesturing for the driver to move on. Only when the cars were out of sight did relief rush through Tony’s body, leaving him light-headed and reeling.

He forced his feet to move one in front of the other. Tony was convinced he hadn’t fooled the Captain of that squad – or whatever a unit that size was called. Military history wasn’t his forte, but it gave him something to think about while he recovered his composure. Nazis. He felt nauseous.

At least he knew which World War he’d stumbled into. The entire encounter provided a distraction from thinking about the cold and added an extra incentive to figure a way out of here as quickly as possible. _Shuffle your sticks, Stark. Daylight’s fading._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotation at the beginning is from Back to the Future. :D The nursery rhyme that Tony's talking about is [The House that Jack Built](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/This_Is_the_House_That_Jack_Built). When Ana taught it to him, she misremembered the words and substituted "curly" for "crumpled."


	2. Twenty Questions

Time is the longest distance between two places.  
**~Tennessee Williams**

Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes of the 107th Infantry Regiment crouched down in the burned-out shell of a stone house and thought through his situation. He, Steve, and the Howling Commandos had successfully destroyed a Hydra base just over a day ago. They’d had prisoners, though, and somebody had needed to guard the team’s retreat – a job that’d fallen to him. When the bombardment started the same evening, though, he hadn’t been able to catch up at their rendezvous point.

He prayed that Dugan, Falsworth, and Morita would be able to keep Steve from trying to return for him before they’d gotten their prisoners safely back to base. Bucky knew better than anyone, though, that Steve would want to return for him as soon as possible and that trying to get Steve to change his mind about something once it was already made up was a hell of a challenge.

Running through his options, Bucky decided he needed to move. Either the bombardment would start again, or the Germans would send in a group to neutralize or capture him. No way was he going to sit around for those Hydra bastards to get their mitts on him again. That idea and his dwindling K-rations convinced Bucky that waiting here for extraction would be an exercise in stupidity.

Bucky lit a cigarette and set it on the charred stone where the windowsill would have been only a few days ago. If there were snipers around, they’d be looking for something like it. _He_ would. After a few very tense minutes with no enemy response, he packed his bags, flicked the cherry from the end of the cigarette and put the rest in his pocket for later. Then Bucky headed out into the night, glad the cardinal directions on his compass glowed in the dark.

Ignoring the hunger gnawing in his belly, he hiked toward their base. With any luck, he’d meet the Howlies on their way to pick him up. Bucky’s eyes scanned his surroundings while he walked, alert for motion or reflected light. Still, his thoughts came back to what he’d have to eat when he got back to base. Even the idea of those godawful rehydrated powdered eggs made his mouth water.

The camp doctor who’d looked Bucky over after Steve brought him back from Kreischberg had attributed his appetite to the POW experience. It was true they hadn’t been fed well there. But Steve watched him more thoughtfully when they ate together and sometimes slipped him some of his extra D-ration chocolate bars, bitter with a grainy texture. Still, the days when he got a little extra to eat were easier to get through than the others. Even still, Bucky couldn’t remember a night in the month or so since coming back from Kreischberg that he hadn’t dreamt of food.

He had no idea how long he’d been on the move when he stopped to check his compass and heard the distant whine of aircraft. Bucky took cover in the brush of a sparse hedgerow to wait out the coming attack, unwilling to reveal his location with the muzzle flash if he took shots at the planes as they flew overhead.

Sure enough, the bombing started just a moment later. Bucky crouched and covered his ears as the bombs dropped in the fields on either side of him. One of them fell close enough that clods of snow and frozen dirt rained down on him.

In the silence that followed the initial bombing run, Bucky’s heart felt like it was going to hammer its way out of his chest. The whine of the planes turning to make another pass set the hair on the back of his neck on end. _God, he hated a threat he couldn’t engage – and preferably put an end to one way or another._

Then, inexplicably, Bucky heard what sounded like someone whistling for a dog. “What the hell?” Bucky muttered to himself and promptly decided it’d been an auditory hallucination from the loud noise of the explosions a few minutes ago. He covered his ears with his arms, hands clasped behind his head in a duck and cover position again, ready for the bombers’ next pass.

But no – there it was again, a little closer this time. This time the whistle was followed by a man’s voice – an American man’s voice – shouting, “Hey, Furface! Come back! I know you’re scared, but I’ll keep you safe! C’mon! You can’t be out here! It’s too dangerous!”

Somebody was out here chasing a _dog_ because it was too dangerous for **it** to be out here. The irony wasn’t lost on the sergeant. Closer still, he heard a boot hit something and the noise of a body falling. Before coming overseas, Bucky never would’ve thought that a human body falling had a distinct sound. He knew better now. This body also said, “Oof!” and whistled again for the dog.

“Fucking hell,” he snarled to himself and shimmied out from his hiding place in the brush even as the whine of the planes’ engines grew louder. From here, Bucky could see the man’s silhouette stand again. Apparently, someone had robbed Steve, because all the stupid was standing right there in front of him, no more than thirty feet away.

As quietly as he could, Bucky pulled himself up into a crouch. Protecting somebody from being pulverized, whether they wanted him to or not, was no reason to give the other guy a heads up that he was coming. Doubled forward, Bucky ran as fast as he could toward the figure and tackled the guy to the ground.

The man yelped, sounding offended and tried to push Bucky off, which sent them both rolling into a crater left by the last bombing run. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Get off of me! My dog is out here!”

“So are you, you goddamn idiot!” Bucky snapped. “Keep quiet or I’ll make you.” His pistol was wedged underneath him at an awkward angle, so he jabbed his finger between the fellow’s ribs and hoped for the best.

The man snorted in disbelief. “Hate to break it to you, but this is not the first time somebody’s held me at gunpoint. I know that’s not a gun and… you’re definitely not glad to see me.”

“Are you nuts?” Bucky hissed. Right now, he honestly couldn’t blame whoever had waved a gun in this guy’s direction. “Shut up or I’ll kill you myself!” The scream of bombs falling punctuated his statement and, surprisingly, the idiot shut his trap.

Bucky relaxed his hold on the stranger just slightly and he started struggling again. “I _need_ my dog,” the man insisted and pinched Bucky’s shoulder in a way that sent his whole arm into tingles. “Let –”

Whatever the stranger had planned to say died in his mouth and his whole body went taut – and finally, blessedly, quiet, as the bombs fell around them.

“’Bout time,” Bucky muttered and spat out a mouthful of dirt. When the guy stayed motionless in the momentary silence that followed as the pilots searched for targets, Bucky leaned away from him as much as he dared and whispered, “What? I’m just trying to keep us both alive.”

The stranger’s fingers dug into Bucky’s shoulders through the layers of his uniform and he leaned in closer to Bucky, away from the center of the crater. The man was all but clinging to him now – so close that he could feel the stranger’s moustache when he whispered, “There’s an unexploded shell right behind me.”

Involuntarily, Bucky pulled the man closer – as if those few inches would keep either of them safe. Bucky nodded to himself and to the stranger and licked his lips nervously before responding, “Gonna lift you up over the edge. Make a run for the line of bushes. Stay low an’ I’ll follow you. Roger that?”

There was a brief pause, but he felt a nod and the man’s breath on his ear, rather than heard anything because the bombing had started again.

Bucky twisted and heaved the man over the lip of the crater onto the relatively level ground next to it and hoped for the best. At least he took that unexploded shell seriously, Bucky thought sullenly to himself as he did his best to pull himself up without sending any stones or clods of dirt knocking into the shell casing behind him.

He almost startled and fell back when he felt a strong hand grip his wrist and pull from topside. They were able to move and get under cover just a few seconds later.

“No man left behind,” the stranger whispered in a tone that Bucky thought was supposed to sound light, but he could feel the man shaking.

“Your first time?” Bucky asked between explosions. He’d automatically shielded the stranger’s body with his own. The bushes scratched at the exposed parts of his skin on the back of his neck and face.

“No,” the man said quietly, but emphatically.

“You lived,” Bucky said, trying to sound encouraging. The last thing he needed right now was for this fella to panic.

Bucky wouldn’t swear to it later, but he could’ve sworn he heard the stranger say, “Sort of,” before another shell fell close enough to trigger the unexploded bomb.

Dirt and God only knew what else fell in heavy thumps around them, but Bucky hardly heard it. The guy had wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and buried his face in the sergeant’s shoulder, clutching him tightly.

An unexpected tangle of emotions hit Bucky in the solar plexus. He exhaled shakily and then just started murmuring whatever came into his head, not caring whether or not he was heard over the noise around them. “Hey, you had it rough before ‘cause I wasn’t there to save your bacon. We’ll be alright – you’ll see. I ain’t a fortune teller, so I won’t promise, but you got a better than average chance if you stick with me. It’s lucky I got here when I did.” And on and on.

The stranger didn’t relax his grip and Bucky wondered how someone so rigid with tension and fear could still be trembling. He could smell soap and wood smoke in the man’s hair, mingled with the smell of wet earth and used charges around them. Bucky only just managed to shake off the sudden urge to press a kiss into the stranger’s hair.

A couple of minutes later, a long moment of silence followed the sound of planes retreating. Bucky waited another minute, counting the seconds slowly in his mind, then he craned his neck up to survey the damage around them. “Hey, I think the planes are flying back to pick up a new payload. You got a place close by with better cover? Ten to one your dog’s there waiting for you.” Propped on his elbows now, Bucky looked down into the shadows where he knew the man’s face was, waiting for a response.

“Yeah,” the stranger said after a moment, “I do. I owe you one for not getting us blown up over there.” Then he seemed to realize that he still had his arms wrapped around his protector and let his arms fall away. “Sorry about that. I’ve got bad associations with scenarios like that.”

“With getting blown up? Who wouldn’t?” Bucky interrupted and rolled off of the man below him. The guy had dark hair – he could tell that much at least – and was about a head shorter. After he stood, Bucky offered the man a hand up. “Sergeant Barnes of the 107th.”

Again, Bucky was struck by the strength in the hand that accepted his silent offer of assistance. When the other man stood, he half-laughed without mirth, “You’d be surprised by the number of people who just expect me to walk that one off and forget about it. Anyway, sorry to bore you with old news. I’m Tony… Potts.”

“Potts?” Bucky asked, only because this Tony fella didn’t sound so sure of himself.

“Yeah. By the way, nice to meet you, Barnes, and thanks for the assist. The house is this way.” Tony gestured and started walking. “It’s about fifteen minutes away, I think. Hard to tell what the terrain’ll be like though, so don’t hold me to that. The dog’s been a real lifesaver the past couple of days. Having him around lets me sleep easier.”

“Are you AWOL?” Bucky asked and hated sounding like an interrogator, but as a sergeant, he needed to know.

“Huh?” Tony sounded baffled, “Oh, no. Trust me – nobody knows I’m here.”

Bucky wondered if that meant this Potts guy was OSS or something and nobody’d acknowledge his mission, or what. He could also be a German plant, but that’d be a hell of a risk to send an agent out here on the off-chance that Bucky Barnes would walk by this particular field.

The most likely thing tended to be the truth. So the guy was Tony Somebody and no one was looking for him. Wait, he hadn’t said that. Tony’d said no one knew he was here. “Anyone looking for you?”

“Not here, that’s for fucking sure,” Tony grumbled and walked briskly toward the silhouettes of buildings Bucky could just see as the moonlight started to filter through spaces in the clouds.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky asked, grinning.

“If she were alive, yes I would,” Tony stopped and turned to him and tapped Bucky’s cheek. “Right there. C’mon Sergeant Swear Police.”

That shut down Bucky’s questions for a while, but Tony’s voice broke the following silence, “Barnes? From the 107th?” He sounded thoughtful.

“That’s right. That a problem?” Bucky wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not right now.

Tony chuckled to himself, “No, no problem. Sometimes I’m just reminded how small the world is, that’s all.”

“All right, whatever you say, pal,” Bucky said, feeling both confused and annoyed.

“Sorry – don’t pay any attention to me. The circumstances are kind of funny-not-funny, you know?” Tony tried to explain.

“No,” Bucky muttered with a frown.

“Well, trust me, it wasn’t personal. I really do appreciate not being blown up,” Tony said.

Bucky could hear the contrition in his voice and relented. “Yeah, okay. All’s forgiven if you’ve got anything to eat at your place.”

“If you drink milk, I’ve got plenty of that. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make pancakes with what I’ve got, but I really don’t know what I’m doing,” Tony said with a shrug. “You’re welcome to take a look and see what you can come up with.”

“Really?” Bucky was already having visions of melting the gritty bitter chocolate into milk thick with cream and his mouth watered as his stomach growled loud enough for Tony to notice. Thankfully, though, he didn’t laugh at that.

“Yup. I’m man enough to admit my shortcomings. I’m no cook, though I can bake potatoes like a champ. Anyway, sounds like you could use a snack. This is where I’m shacked up,” Tony said, pointing to a house looming out of the darkness not far away. Another minute or two and they’d crossed the yard. Tony opened the door. “ _Mi casa es su casa._ Make yourself at home. There’s not a lot in the way of firewood, though, so it’s been cold. I don’t know how to start a coal stove.”

Bucky looked at Tony incredulously. _Who doesn’t know how to start a coal stove?_ Well, it didn’t matter. He was alive and out of the elements. Tony added a large fuel log to the coals in the fireplace and brought a bottle of milk in from the doorstep, handing it to Bucky. “There’s water, but no hot water inside. If you keep it running a trickle, the pipes don’t freeze. What else? Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen, but that’s all that I’ve been able to find over the last week or so of scavenging empty houses.”

Bucky heard the unsaid, ‘that’s all there is, so be careful with it.’ “Where’d you get milk out here?”

Tony grinned as he sat down on a sturdy wooden chair worn smooth over time. He started gingerly removing his shoes. “I found a cow. My friends would never believe it if they could see me now.”

Noticing the windows were all papered over with thick brown paper to keep the light from leaking out, Bucky started to relax and set down some of his gear to remove his coat. “So, you milk cows but can’t cook?”

“I was able to figure it out with a bunch of trial and error. I don’t want to mess up the food by making something inedible,” Tony said.

Deciding it was warm enough to take off his boots and give his feet a chance to breathe, Bucky bent over, unlaced his boots in record time, and peeled them off his tired feet. “All right. I’ll take a loo-” He stopped talking when he looked up and saw the condition of Tony’s feet: raw with layers of blisters, bleeding in some places, just seeping clear lymph fluid in others. “Jesus… first we’re takin’ care of those feet. If you let that go, you’re gonna lose a leg or worse. You stay there.”

Bucky busied himself with filling a large pan of water and setting it close enough to the fire for it to heat up. He’d check the coal stove later. Then he went upstairs and found a metal bathtub that he brought downstairs.

“I’ve got soap and a washcloth over by the sink there,” Tony said, gesturing to the kitchen. I don’t have much in the way of first aid supplies, though.”

“I probably have enough in my kit as long as you stay off your feet as much as possible and let them heal.” Bucky fished the kit out of his gear that he’d stowed near the door and found the soap and washcloth where Tony had indicated. After deciding the water was warm enough, he took off his uniform shirt and used it as a hot pad to bring it away from the fire.

As he poured some of the warm water into the portable bathtub and washed his hands and forearms, Tony grinned and said, “You’ll be gentle with me, won’t you Sergeant?”

Deciding Tony was trying to get a rise out of him, Bucky raised an eyebrow and responded, “No promises, kitten.” Tony’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed while Bucky chuckled. Bucky was glad he’d taken off the warmer uniform shirt, leaving him in his t-shirt and pants. “Enough kidding around – you ready?”

Tony nodded and moved so Bucky could wash his feet. Bucky soaped the washcloth and started washing carefully, wondering why he hadn’t just told Tony to take care of his own feet. He stopped and looked up when Tony hissed as the water made contact.

“It’s fine – just stings a little,” Tony said in response to Bucky’s unanswered question. “Go ahead, you’re not gonna hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t try to,” Bucky replied and looked back down at what he was supposed to be doing, which was _not_ trying to figure out how old Tony was. Definitely older than him or Steve, but a lot younger than any of the brass around. Maybe thirty-five? Forty at most. He thought the Office of Strategic Services usually recruited younger men to be operatives and wondered what kind of mission they’d send an older man on.

“What do you do when you’re not milking cows?” Bucky asked, looking up at Tony again and taking in his ruffled hair and dirt-smudged face. Bucky looked away again when he caught himself gazing a little too long into Tony’s eyes.

“Believe it or not, I’m a mechanic. I fix things – or improve them,” Tony replied easily. _True_ , Bucky was sure of it.

Frowning, Bucky asked, “What the hell are you doing out here then? Wouldn’t you be more valuable on base fixing tanks or something?”

Tony sighed and Bucky found that his hands had stopped washing again and he was back to studying Tony’s features as his forehead creased and the corners of his mouth turned down. “My… situation is complicated.” _Truth again_ , Bucky decided, _but there’s a hell of a lot he’s not telling me._

Bucky finally managed to finish with Tony’s first foot and started cleaning up the other. He wracked his brain trying to come up with something else to say. It’d be a lot more comfortable while he was here if they got along… and he’d gotten lonely over the past day. It’d been absolutely silent except for the birds during the day and the bombing at night. “You… got a girl back home?” _Boring, but it was the first thing he’d thought of._

“Hm? No. …Well kind of… but no. No.” Tony sighed and shifted and ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up in different places.

Bucky smiled. “Is that complicated too?”

“Yes, goddammit,” Tony said sulkily. After a pause, he added, “My girlfriend and I split up a while ago… because of …the work I do. It takes a lot of my time.”

“Your work as a mechanic,” Bucky stated for confirmation.

“Exactly.”

“She doesn’t like you spending all that time with the guys at the shop?” Bucky asked, realizing he’d stopped again. Tony’s hands were calloused, but looked well-cared for. _A contradiction, but not a lie._

“Oh, I work from home, but I just get wrapped up in it and forget things sometimes. Like dates, her birthday…” Tony shrugged.

Bucky tried to visualize a man working as a mechanic from his home and wondered where Tony lived, but before he could ask, Tony asked him, “What about you, Sergeant Sweet Talk? If you want to play twenty questions with me, you’ve got to answer some too.”

“What about me?” Bucky asked, hoping that his ears hadn’t turned red, because they felt hot.

“Do you have someone special waiting at home for you?”

“No – nobody like that. My sisters write to me and a few other girls write too, but they’re just friendly letters from a few of my mother’s friends’ daughters,” Bucky said and wondered why he’d felt the need to clarify that.

“It’s hard to believe that a guy with your looks wouldn’t be popular,” Tony said, a teasing smile on his lips.

Now he really was blushing and flustered; Bucky washed a bit too vigorously and Tony flinched. “Sorry.” He didn’t meet Tony’s eyes right away. “I went on plenty of dates…. I guess I just never found the right somebody.”

Bucky glanced up to see Tony nodding thoughtfully. “I buy that. What about –?”

“You had your question – it’s my turn again,” Bucky said and made a face.

Tony threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Ask away, Sherlock.”

“You got a thing for nicknames, huh?” Bucky said, grinning.

“I do. You shouldn’t have wasted your question like that,” Tony retorted and stuck out his tongue.

Bucky laughed. “Why you –”

“Made you smile, though, didn’t I?” Tony said and sat back looking like the cat that got the canary.

“You did. Shouldn’t have wasted your question, though,” Bucky said and smirked at the indignant noise Tony made.

“How many questions is that, anyway?” Tony asked, as he counted back on his fingers.

As he stood, Bucky said, “I wasn’t keeping track.”

Tony shook his head and sighed as if disappointed before darting a mischievous glance at Bucky. “What am I gonna do with you, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky very nearly came back with his standard reply whenever someone pretty asked him that, which was _‘Whatever you want, darlin’’_ or something to that effect. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “How about you take a bath while I fix us something to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotation at the beginning is from the play, _The Glass Menagerie_ by Tennessee Williams.


	3. The Physics Is Theoretical, but the Fun Is Real

Time is the reef upon which all our frail mystic ships are wrecked.

**~Sir Noel Coward, _Blithe Spirit_**

In the firelight, Tony couldn’t quite tell if the sergeant was blushing or not and he wasn’t sure what to do with this fun, but completely unexpected flirty vibe they had going on. He was _not_ going to think about Barnes calling him kitten again while he got undressed for a bath, though. And there was no way he was going to refuse a bath after all he’d been through at this point.

Barnes helped him into the tub. Tony was proud that he hadn’t openly drooled on Barnes’s biceps. The water wasn’t deep – or very warm, but it wasn’t icy cold either. The tub itself was big enough to sit in, but he had no room to stretch out. Barnes set a clean flour sack towel higher up in the tub so Tony had something to put his feet on to keep them out of the water.

When the sergeant went into the kitchen to see what food was available, Tony watched him, eyes riveted on Barnes' back. He couldn’t help visually tracing the lines of muscle in Barnes’s back and across his shoulders. From the way his shirt fit, Tony guessed the SSR hadn’t figured out yet that Barnes had been dosed with a super-soldier serum close to Steve’s.

Blinking when he realized Barnes had asked him a question, Tony scrubbed his face with the washcloth and said, “What? Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“I asked what this bowl of wet flour is for,” Barnes responded, sounding distinctly skeptical.

Tony sighed, “It’s an experiment. I thought I heard somewhere that wild yeast lives in the air and that if you left out dough, it’d start to grow yeast and rise like regular bread dough.”

Barnes grunted in response. “All right. We’ll bake it off tomorrow, then.”

Tony heard a lot of shuffling around in the kitchen and decided he should try to clean up while he had the chance. It was nice to get the dirt out of his hair and ears.

Barnes brought a saucepan full of milk over to the fireplace and set it near enough to warm, but not enough to scald quickly. He sat cross-legged on the floor stirring and glanced at Tony. “Gonna try making hot chocolate,” the sergeant explained as he dropped a few squares of very firm chocolate into the pan.

“I’m just about done here… can you bring me my bag? It’s upstairs – I’ve got another change of clothes in there.” Tony said hopefully. “I can reach far enough to stir, so the milk won’t burn.”

“Yeah, all right. I can do that. I’ll be right back – don’t go anywhere,” Barnes said. Tony could’ve sworn Barnes winked at him. That had to be his imagination, though, right?

Tony reached over the edge of the tub and slowly stirred the pot with the milk and chocolate. It looked pale for hot chocolate, but he wasn’t going to complain, and it looked like Barnes had put most of the cream in the pan too. Tony didn’t mind that either – there was plenty where that had come from.

He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he’d found a red cow, just like he’d described to the German Captain. When Tony had found her, she even had a rope halter to guide her with and she just plodded along with him, apparently happy to trust him to find them somewhere warm. The dog he’d found at the house, which stood a little way off from the rest of the village, which was why this house had survived, when all the others had been damaged to a greater or lesser extent.

The dog barked when there were squirrels or larger birds like crows around and helped Tony feel more secure, alone as he’d been. Maybe he’d see if Barnes could check the barn to see if it was out there keeping warm with the cow.

A few moments later, the sergeant returned with an odd expression on his face that Tony couldn’t interpret. “What the hell is this?” Barnes asked, the muscle in his jaw twitching with repressed emotion – anger and suspicion – if Tony’s instincts were right.

 _Oh, shit_ , Tony thought to himself. Barnes held the cellphone Tony had packed between a couple layers of clothes. Tony sighed and wished 1) that he wasn’t naked in a shallow tub full of cooling water and 2) that he had any way of knowing how this time travel mechanism really worked. There were a lot of theories floating around, but nobody had ever tried it before and come back with an explanation.

 _Here goes nothing._ “That’s a cellphone… sort of like a very portable radio. It also has a camera. That’s what those little circles on the other side are – a flash and camera lens.”

Barnes turned over the cellphone in his hand and nodded ever so slightly at identifying the camera lens and flash. “How does it work?” he asked, suspicion still engraved in his expression, but his tone was more curious now. His jaw had thankfully lost some of its tension as well.

For a moment, Tony got lost in thought pondering how the sergeant’s eyes were so expressive. Giving himself a mental shake, he said, “Well, right now it doesn’t. I… uh… arrived in the water close to the beach.”

Barnes considered for a long moment and then set down the cellphone. “Let me give you a hand outta there. Dry off. Get dressed. Then I want the whole story – not just these bits and pieces you’re putting together.”

The sergeant crossed the room and carefully slid an arm under Tony’s knees and the other under his arm, then lifted him out of the tub and set him down again on one of the chairs at the dining table. He handed Tony a towel and put a small pile of clothes on the table.

“Thanks,” Tony said. He felt flustered that Barnes had just picked him up from an angle like that as though it was nothing. It reinforced the theory that Barnes really had been given some kind of super-soldier serum while he was a POW in Kreischberg. It was a shame, though, that Tony was too worried about how this conversation was going to go to enjoy the skin-to-skin contact.

Swallowing as much of his anxiety as he could, Tony dried off and got dressed awkwardly, but without further assistance. Barnes meanwhile, picked up the pan with the sort-of cocoa and poured it into two mugs before finishing the rest himself.

“There’s a cold baked potato there, next to the sink wrapped in paper if you want it,” Tony said, breaking the chilly silence that had invaded the space between them.

Barnes grunted in acknowledgement and picked it up along with both mugs and sat across the table from Tony. “All right, let’s hear it.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table and his features only held an air of indifferent detachment in place of all the flavors of smile Tony had seen there earlier. “And I can smell it when somebody’s lying.”

Stomach sinking, Tony sipped the milk – it wasn’t too bad, actually – and tried to figure out how to start. He and Steve had never talked about how the serum affected Steve’s senses, but Tony thought it wouldn’t be wise to assume that Barnes meant ‘smell lies’ as a figure of speech, either. “Okay. So, a few days ago – I’m not totally sure how many – I went to see a machine a …guy I know put together. He’s an arrogant asshole, but he’d probably say the same about me…. Anyway, he was trying to tell me how it worked, sending things back and forth through time.”

Barnes scoffed.

“You want me to tell you what happened or not?” Tony snapped, his tone more defensive than was probably smart right now, but he hadn’t planned on telling anybody what had happened to him and yet here they were.

“By all means, continue,” Barnes said with a wave of his hand that seemed to Tony to say, ‘if you’re going to dig your own grave, I’m not about to stop you.’

“Anyway, we argued – because we always argue – and he said he’d prove it worked. Then I found myself in twelve feet of saltwater off the coast,” Tony said, feeling annoyed about Richards all over again.

“So, if he knew where he sent you, why didn’t he just bring you back?” Barnes asked, eyebrow raised. Clearly, the sergeant was having none of this.

Tony’s lips pressed themselves into a line of barely concealed rage. “Because you have to wait for _fifteen minutes_ in the spot you land before the device automatically retrieves you. So ‘you can have a good look around.’” He rolled his eyes and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “I don’t know why I even bother with that guy. Every. Single. Time. there’s some kind of shit like this. Every single fucking time!”

Barnes nodded slowly, “Yeah, I know some guys like that. …Is that how you got that big scar on your chest?”

Tony barked a laugh that felt more like the air being punched out of his chest. “No. That one wasn’t…. No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “That one was my first experience with a live unexploded shell. Shrapnel everywhere – it was a mess.” He wished he could take back the clipped tone and turn it into something that sounded more sympathetic, but it was too late for that.

“Whose was it?” Barnes asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

“The bomb? It was one of mine.” Noticing the sergeant’s eyebrows shoot up again, Tony clarified, “I mean I built it. I was pretty good at it too. Getting blown up with your own creation, though, kind of…” he tried to think of something witty to say, but came up blank, “made me reconsider my priorities. I lived through that, so it had to be a sign to do something else with my life, so I did.”

“And now you’re a mechanic?” Barnes was good. Tony couldn’t tell if the guy believed him or not.

“Among other things, yes,” Tony replied.

Nodding, Barnes said, “You walked here up from the coast? No wonder your feet look like that.”

A scratching at the door made them both look and Tony involuntarily moved to rise. The sergeant flicked his eyes back to Tony. “I got it. Sit.”

Barnes drew his pistol and opened the door a crack only to have a black nose push its way in followed by a canine’s frustrated whine that the door wasn’t just flung open for him. Seeing only the dog, Barnes put away his sidearm and let the dog in. He gave Barnes a serious snuffling before crossing the room to the fireplace, turning around and laying down in front of the fire without so much as a how-d’ya-do to Tony.

Barnes sat back down at the table across from Tony. “Potts ain’t your real name.”

“Nope… I could say ‘Smith’ if you prefer.”

The sergeant laughed, “It’s your name. You want guys shouting for Potts or Smith?”

“Oh! What about ‘Osborne?’” Tony asked, wishing he’d thought of using Ozzy’s name sooner.

“Just use Smith an’ be done with it already.”

Tony sighed, a tad disappointed. “ _Fine._ ”

“You asked,” Barnes retorted.

“I did. It’s my own fault.” Tony sipped his cocoa. “So, does that answer your question?” He figured he wouldn’t even ask if the sergeant believed him.

“Most of it – about how you got here anyway. Your …device… ain’t waterproof?” The sergeant turned Tony’s cellphone over in his hands, inspecting it more closely.

“If I’d dropped it in the sink while shaving or it slipped out of my hand and fell in a puddle? It can resist that kind of water, but complete submersion for however long I was in the water? No. And even if it did, I don’t have a way to charge it here.”

Barnes hummed to himself, looking dissatisfied, but Tony couldn’t tell if that was with his explanations or because he wanted to see how it worked. He frowned in thought and then looked up at Tony. “So how does time travel work?”

Tony tried to conceal his surprise. This was a question he hadn’t anticipated. “Like what’s the science behind the machine that brought me here or do you mean what’s the impact of me being here now when I’m from the future?” He decided he’d state it that way just to be crystal clear with his earlier explanation.

After chewing his lip, brow creased in thought, Barnes said, “Both.”

“Have you heard of quantum physics?” Tony thought he should start there and not assume Barnes’s knowledge level.

“A little – I read some of Heisenberg’s papers at the library. Some of Niels Bohr’s stuff.” The sergeant shrugged. “Whatever I could talk the librarian into lettin’ me see.”

 _Wow._ Tony’s heart beat faster – arms like that _and_ he did casual reading in particle physics? Barnes was flirty and funny too, his brain helpfully reminded him. He licked his lips and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Okay, so you know the uncertainty principle? Where the more precisely you measure one thing – say a particle’s physical position – how the other measurements become less certain? Like how fast it was moving – or when?”

“Yeah,” Barnes said slowly, “That sounds familiar.”

“Okay. So let’s say you’ve got a particle and you send it back in time and someone else messes with it by measuring it,” Tony drew lines on the table with his finger. “Now in theories based on Einstein’s classical theory of relativity, that act of measurement should alter the particle, right?”

When Tony looked up, he was surprised to see the sergeant not only still paying attention, but nodding seriously along with the example as well. Tony continued eagerly, “But we’ve been able to do experiments that show that’s _not_ what happens. It doesn’t have much of an effect at all! And the farther back in time you send it, the less alteration in the particle itself! All the variables that you’d think would act against it are what end up saving it!”

Leaning back in his chair, Barnes thought about this for a moment, “Because the thing you’re measuring is time? Not the other factors?”

Tony shrugged, “The jackass who made the machine that sent me here was too busy patting himself on the back to go into all the details, but I think something like that, yeah.”

“So how do you think that affects the other matter around it?” Barnes asked, feeling his pockets and coming up with a small packet of cigarettes. He tapped one on the table firmly, then clamped it between his lips to light up. “You want one?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got shitty lungs as it is,” Tony said.

Barnes left the pack and lighter on the table for his own convenience and pulled an ashtray off the mantel. “So, what do you think will happen to us since you’re here? That’s what I’m getting at.”

“To my knowledge, I’m the only one who’s ever traveled like this through time, so it’s not like there’s published papers on it or anything.”

The sergeant waved his hand – both an acknowledgement of Tony’s point and for him to continue.

“So, what I _think_ will happen, should I ever be able to return to my own time, is that space-time will sort of bandage itself up. Minor things like the two of us meeting won’t matter too much in the vastness of all the other variables. Let me give an example… say I went back to 1933 and killed Hitler – yay! Good job Tony!”

Barnes clapped, amused, but he was still clearly hooked on what was being said. Tony’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “But all those other events happened… so probably a different Nazi leader would rise to power and take over. The same – or very similar – events would still take place… at least that’s what I got out of the articles I read before I went to meet the idiot who sent me here. And I think that’s _probably_ what will happen.”

The sergeant finished his cigarette and exhaled, stubbing out the butt in the ashtray. “I don’t know if I believe all of your story, but if you were AWOL, you’d have a simpler story – same if you were some kind of double agent, I think.”

“So –” Tony started.

“So,” Barnes continued, ignoring Tony’s interruption, “I guess that means you’re kind of a puzzle, then, aren’t you?” Tony’s brain added _kitten_ to the end of the sentence and felt his nerves tingling across his shoulders, down his spine and across his thighs.

“What are you going to do with me?” Tony asked because he wanted to know. He raised an eyebrow because he wanted to bring back the flirtatious atmosphere they’d had earlier.

Barnes tipped his chin up cockily, regarding Tony from beneath those long, dark eyelashes. “I got a few ideas. But first I’m taking a bath and then we’re going to sleep. I’ve been up for two and a half days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a physicist, nor do I play one on tv (lol), but I did do some research about the physics behind the theories and if you're interested, I'm including the links here:
> 
> -["Physicists reverse time using quantum computer"](https://phys.org/news/2019-03-physicists-reverse-quantum.html) by Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology, March 13, 2019  
> -["Quantum Mechanics Proves 'Back to the Future' Is B.S."](https://www.popularmechanics.com/science/a33458961/time-travel-methods-quantum-mechanics/) by Caroline Delbert, Popular Mechanics, July 30, 2020  
> -[Arrow of Time](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arrow_of_time), Wikipedia  
> -[Uncertainty Principle](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle), Wikipedia  
> -[Quantum Mechanics](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_mechanics), Wikipedia
> 
> And I imagine that Bucky is more of an avid layperson than a scientist/engineer, just due to lack of formal education, but libraries back then didn't always lend things from special collections just for fun - hence Bucky having to sweet talk the librarians. ;D 
> 
> I realize the experiment I've referenced occurred in 2018/19 - several years into the future of when Tony's from (autumn 2015), but I think this is all right because that's the rest of the scientific community catching up to the brilliance of Reed Richards & Tony Stark. :D I humbly beg you to suspend disbelief (or at least not yell too much!). If I've really, really gotten something wrong, please let me know, though and I'll see if I can squish a better explanation in here.


	4. The Thin White Duke Saves the Day

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

**~Mary Schmich (Wear Sunscreen: A Primer for Real Life)**

There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want.  
**~Bill Watterson**

That night they slept together on the sofa. It was too narrow for them to be entirely comfortable, but they’d have been too cold in the upstairs bedroom without a fire. Bucky reminded himself of these facts more than once. Tony had just snuggled back against him. Minutes later, Bucky was pretty sure the guy was already sleeping.

Bucky felt exhausted. But despite the long hours he’d been awake, the fact that all he needed to do to bury his nose in Tony’s hair was to just bend his head slightly was keeping him in a state of unwelcome alertness. He had his head on one of the embroidered sofa pillows while Tony rested his head on Bucky’s arm. Where should Bucky’s other hand go, though? Right now, he was resting it on his own hip, but he felt like if he shifted his weight at all, he’d fall backwards off the edge of the couch.

He shifted again and sighed – a quiet huff of frustration.

“Quit it,” Tony mumbled sleepily and pulled the blankets up again to cover his shoulders.

Bucky stilled and stayed as quiet as he could, which took some effort and didn’t help him fall asleep at all. His eyes felt itchy and dry. They didn’t want to be open, but his mind kept thinking. Darting first to Tony and that funny beard that was so attractive on him, like a rakish Clark Gable. Then his mind circled back to the problem of how he (they?) would find Steve and the Howlies. Finally, his tired mind tried to decide whether it was better to stay put since they had at least a few days’ worth of food or to head out in the direction of the camp and hope for the best.

“Nrggh…” Tony grumbled and reached back to grab Bucky’s wrist, tugging that restless hand over his stomach. “Go to sleep.”

With his arm draped over Tony’s side, Bucky’s attention was drawn to the rhythm of Tony’s breathing and how warm the mechanic was – assuming it was true that Tony really was a mechanic. The possibility that Tony was a spy seemed kind of far-fetched, though. While it was true that a spy would have their story down pat, it’d never be anything _that_ ridiculous. He yawned and finally got comfortable. Having an arm around Tony was like having his own personal heater.

Suddenly, Tony was crawling over him to get up.

“Mmph?”

Chuckling softly, Tony whispered, “Call of nature. Go back to sleep, you.”

Bucky felt the blanket move to cover his shoulders and he fell back asleep. When he woke again, Tony was coming in with a milk bucket in one hand and several pieces of firewood under his other arm.

“Morning, Sergeant Sleepyhead.”

Bucky yawned wide enough for his jaw to crack. “Why’re you doin’ the things?” he mumbled, still sleepy.

“Because cows and dogs wait for no man and you needed the sleep,” Tony said brightly.

Bucky sat up and scowled. “You’re awfully cheerful for somebody with as many blisters as you’ve got.”

Looking over his shoulder, Tony beamed and said, “And you’re awfully grumpy for someone who’s slept past lunchtime.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened as he glowered at the back of Tony’s head. “Har, har, har.” He stood and picked up his uniform shirt and buttoned up before changing his socks and adding a log to the fire. “What else you got that needs to be done?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Hmm… I’ve got some mostly edible not-oatmeal that I made with some wheat berries that needs eating,” Tony piped up.

“That ain’t what I meant, and you know it,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony laughed, delighted. “You really aren’t a morning person, are you, sourpuss?”

Bucky glared daggers at Tony as he set bowl in front of him.

“I used the sugar packet from your K-Ration. I hope you don’t mind too much,” Tony said.

The porridge definitely wasn’t oatmeal, but the unground wheat berries were cooked through and Tony had been liberal with the cream. All in all, it was plain, but tasty enough. Better than those damn crackers and the can of ‘cheese’ anyway. “This is really good.”

Grinning, Tony said, “You look happier already. You want me to make up that instant coffee for you?”

Bucky thought about it, since it was the only coffee he’d have until he got back to camp again. “Yeah, that sounds like it’d hit the spot.” He watched Tony move – the muscles in his arms, the span of his shoulders, and the way his hair curled on the back of his neck.

He went back to eating and glanced up when Tony laughed. “What’s so funny?

“That you’re so traditional – the way to your heart is by feeding you,” Tony said, laughter dancing in his eyes.

Clearly, Tony had no idea what he was talking about – especially since there was nothing _traditional_ about the thoughts that ran through his mind when he looked at Tony, but Bucky grinned anyway. “Maybe you’re just that good a cook. ‘Good food sweetens bad tempers,’ is what my ma always said when my sisters and I were kids.

Tony laughed again, throwing his head back as he filled the kettle to heat the water for the coffee. Bucky curled his toes and stared into his bowl, thinking that when he got to the pearly gates of Heaven, if St. Peter asked him about his favorite sound during life, it would be Tony’s laugh. After what felt like an eternity on the front lines, something that bright and fresh soothed part of his soul in a way the tired laughter of his friends didn’t.

“Today is apparently a cold day in Hell, then.” Tony grinned and sat down across from him while he waited for the water to boil. “I’m really not – I’ve just watched a few cooking shows with some friends. I know _I_ don’t know anything about milling wheat, so I figured I could cook it this way instead.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bucky said as he tried to keep up the table manners his mother had taught him and not just wolf the porridge down in as few bites as possible.

And Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table, looking so pleased that Bucky couldn’t help but grin back. He dropped his eyes again when he realized he might’ve been looking a bit too long, but he couldn’t keep from smiling as he stirred the contents of his bowl.

“It must be pretty good, the way you’re making eyes at it,” Tony chuckled. “You’re blushing, by the way. Thought you’d want to know.”

Bucky could feel his cheeks heat up and tried to give Tony a stern look, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “C’mon, knock it off, Tony.”

Moving his chair closer to Bucky’s, Tony glanced up at him through the long, dark fringe of his eyelashes. “Huh.” Tony raised an eyebrow and his knee brushed against Bucky’s. “I got the impression maybe you kind of like it.”

Thank God his hands were on the table. Bucky was sure if they weren’t, they’d be shaking. As it was, his heart was hammering in his chest and if he hadn’t been blushing before, he sure was now. He _should_ deny it all. He should – really – but the words just wouldn’t form. And from the way he’d been acting, if he tried to refute Tony’s flirtatious accusation, it’d be pretty obvious he was lying.

What he wanted right then was to finish his breakfast while Tony sat in his lap and then kiss Tony until both their lips were bruised and the fire was on the verge of dying. Instead, while he didn’t press his knee back against Tony’s, he didn’t move it away either.

When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarser than it had just a minute ago, “You can’t just say stuff like that to a fella, Tony.”

As Bucky watched, Tony’s eyes darkened. He thought there might be the hint of a flush high on his cheeks too, but maybe that was wishful thinking. _What are you doing? How can you even consider…?_

“Even if it’s true?” Tony said, letting his eyes wander over Bucky’s arms and chest.

“Especially if it’s true, kitten,” Bucky murmured and reached over to brush a thumb over Tony’s cheek. He couldn’t help it.

Tony shivered and Bucky could see goose bumps where Tony’s forearms were exposed. The way Tony’s eyes locked on his, Bucky had never felt so exposed to anyone before: just stripped bare.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” Tony said, his voice sounding breathy in a way that sent a jolt of sensation straight to Bucky’s already uncomfortably tight pants. For a second, Tony pressed his cheek against Bucky’s palm and then straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. “…It’s not illegal anymore when I’m from. Hell, marriage is even legal now and most states let couples adopt kids if they want ‘em.”

Bucky let his hand drop back to the table and stared at the wood grain of the tabletop. _Two men could marry?_ The concept was just so foreign that he didn’t know what to do with it. When he looked up again, he saw Tony staring blankly at the table seeming so forlorn that Bucky longed to scoop him up, hold on, and not let go. “Proposing already?” he asked and tilted his head to try to gauge Tony’s expression better.

Tony snorted, then a mix of different emotions washed across his face before his lips turned up at the corners. “Haven’t you heard? There’s a war on – no time to waste.”

Biting his lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape, Bucky asked, “Can I think about it?”

Tony winked and smiled. “You got it, Soldier. Never let it be said that I dragged anybody into the chaos of my life without first giving them time to reflect on the poor life choice they were making.”

Bucky laughed. “Do not steer me toward the steep and thorny way to heaven, while you tread the primrose path to hell.”

“What’s that? Quoting poetry?” Tony asked, one eyebrow raised. “You’ll make me weak in the knees… I guess it’s a good thing I’m already sitting down,” he added, grinning.

“Hamlet - or something like it. Sister Mary Catharine told me someday I’d be glad I learned Shakespeare,” Bucky said. “Looks like she knew what she was talking about.”

* * *

Later, after breakfast, Tony dried the dishes while Bucky washed. Bucky studied Tony’s dark hair — the way it stuck up in some places, curled over in others—and thought maybe Tony had a point. There _was_ a war on. What if one of them died and they’d never even gotten to hold hands or kiss? Or what if the guy who sent Tony here found a way to bring him back? That thought twisted in Bucky’s gut.

He’d never really believed his father when he told the story about meeting their mother, Winifred. _“I knew the first time I saw her that she was the one I was going to marry.”_ Bucky had always thought his dad said that because it made his ma smile.

Now that the idea had been planted in his mind, though, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about it and wondering what it would be like to marry – not just a man – _Tony_. Would it be like this? Bucky had always imagined himself settling down with a family, but had never cared much about which girl he’d marry. He’d thought that when he was ready, he’d just pick a nice girl and do right by her. He’d noticed fellas now and then, but he hadn’t ever pursued one seriously. It would’ve been too much trouble, too dangerous.

After meeting Tony, though, he understood why sometimes people just threw caution to the wind. But he couldn’t – could he? _Not after less than a day_ , Bucky decided. _Let’s give this some time to blow over._

Tony sat with his feet up as he dried dishes and still looked a bit resentful about Bucky insisting that he get off his feet. The shadow of a pout pulled Tony’s lower lip forward and left a crease on his forehead. Bucky’s stomach fluttered pleasantly and he decided that he was kidding himself if he thought he’d ever forget Tony, whether or not they kissed.

“Penny for ‘em.” Tony’s voice startled Bucky out of his thoughts.

“I was just thinking about your proposal,” Bucky said.

Tony’s spine straightened and he squared his shoulders. He kept his face carefully neutral and said, “Oh yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

Now was Bucky’s chance to lay off, to put this to bed for good. But he didn’t want to. “Thinking about you ain’t a hardship, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

That admission startled a short laugh from Tony. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s more encouraging than what I thought you’d say,” Tony said, pausing his work.

Hands still soapy, Bucky leaned against the sink and wished he could see farther than the brown paper that covered the window. “I’ve never met anybody like you before, so there’s a lot to think about.”

“Just so you know, there’s no right answer. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But you know, you’re not how I imagined you’d be either,” Tony said as he dried the bowl for the fifth time.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Bucky asked, finally rinsing the pot Tony had made the porridge in.

“You are temptation on legs, Sergeant. I’m just proud that I haven’t embarrassed myself more than I already have,” Tony said with a wry smile.

Bucky dried his hands on his pants and smiled at the compliment. “Don’t talk to me about temptation, Mr. Smith – if that’s your real name, and I know it’s not.”

“See something you like, hm?” Tony asked and then clapped a hand over his face. “I’m _so_ sorry. It just slipped.”

Bucky laughed and caught Tony peeking through his fingers. “You know I do, sugar. That’d be the crux of the issue, wouldn’t you say?”

Tony smiled. “The cruxes are definitely out to get both of us. Best avoid them if we can.”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky asked, laughing and flicking water at Tony with his fingers.

Squawking with mock outrage, Tony snapped his dishtowel at Bucky’s butt. “Has anyone told you that you’re the worst?”

“Maybe a couple of times,” Bucky said, chuckling.

After that, they both silently agreed to let the subject drop and focused instead on making their plans to leave the day after tomorrow if Bucky’s team hadn’t found them by then. Bucky added some flour to Tony’s attempt at a wild yeast bread dough and made a couple of halfway presentable loaves. Meanwhile, Tony spent time skimming the cream and making butter with it. Both of these would be more portable than their initial ingredients.

With the rest of the flour, some of the milk, and the (disgusting on its own) lemonade powder, Bucky made some sad, heavy pancakes – since they didn’t have any leavening agents or eggs. But they’d be edible at least – and tastier than the damn hardtack. The lemonade powder gave them a little bit of sweetness, but the overpowering acidity was tempered by all the flour and milk. With the cold weather, they didn’t need to worry about them getting moldy, so that was another plus.

They spent a long while discussing what to do with the rest of their food stores. Ultimately, they decided that about all they really could do was to cook the unmilled wheat like rice and serve some of the vegetables Tony had scavenged – more cabbage and carrots, along with onions – over the top. Then cook the rest with milk and make more breakfast porridge, using the last of Tony’s dried fruit.

They discussed logistics of how to cover the most ground while keeping Tony’s feet as healthy as possible. Bucky searched the house and several neighboring houses that were more intact than the rest for a pair of shoes or boots that would fit Tony better without success. Bucky decided, over Tony’s protests, that he’d carry Tony as much as possible to help keep his feet healthy. He grudgingly agreed, though, that Tony would have to do at least some walking.

In the evening, Tony showed him how to milk the cow, laughing when Bucky cursed at being switched by her tail. That evening wasn’t quite as cold, so they watched the sun sink below the horizon from the walled back garden.

They shared a meal of ‘cheese’ melted into wheat berries cooked in the bouillon from Bucky’s K-ration. Tony mixed the powdered orange drink with enough water to make it palatable and poured them each a glass.

“I swear you’re a genius – pulling all this together into something edible,” Bucky said, mouth half-full.

“Maybe I’m just inspired to make it better than whatever it looked like coming out of the can. I mean… no offense to the Army, but that was disgusting,” Tony declared, wrinkling his nose.

“You’ll get no argument from me there,” Bucky replied.

Tony pushed his bowl away. “I’m done – you go ahead and finish it if you’re still hungry.”

“I’m always hungry.”

It was true. Even their rations in camp left him hungry afterward.

When Bucky had finished eating, they washed up as they had before, and Tony poured him a big glass of milk. “No sense in letting it go to waste – and it’ll be a while before we get fresh milk after we leave here.”

Their chores for the day complete, Bucky took off his boots and sat on the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him. Sipping the milk slowly, he said, “I... built a fire in the fireplace upstairs before we went outside. Should be plenty warm up there now.”

Tony sat in a chair closer to the fire with his feet propped up. “Oh, yeah?” he replied cautiously. “How’s that going to work? With the sleeping arrangements, I mean.”

Bucky licked his lips nervously. “I was thinking it’s still warmer if we bunk together… and the bed upstairs would be more comfortable than the couch.” He didn’t bother trying to convince himself those were the only reasons.

“Okay. That makes sense,” Tony agreed, nodding slowly.

“I guess that settles that…” Bucky said, wondering what happened next.

“I’ll go up and get ready for bed, then. My day started a lot earlier than yours, sleepyhead.”

“I’ll give you a minute then and I’ll come up after I finish this,” Bucky said, lifting his unfinished glass. As Tony hobbled up the stairs, he couldn’t decide whether or not he’d be relieved or disappointed if Tony was asleep by that time.

Staring into the coals glowing in the grate, Bucky wondered if there was something wrong with him. It shouldn’t be so easy to flirt with another man – to _want_ to flirt with another man. To want more than just flirting. Tony certainly hadn’t seemed to think so. It just felt so natural…

 _We’ll both have to be careful back at camp,_ he thought to himself, _even if nothing else happens_. How did that poem go? _When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when he speaks to you believe in him._ Bucky was pretty sure the poet hadn’t been talking about Tony. He didn’t think he was in love with him… but it would be easy to fall.

He knocked back the rest of his milk in three big gulps and stood, carrying the glass to the sink. Then he climbed the stairs to go to bed.

* * *

Tony rinsed his mouth and stripped down to his undershirt and boxer shorts. He got between the covers, thankful that Bucky had made the bed. He had no idea what would happen. _You really should stop flirting at that poor guy, Stark,_ he chided himself. What could he say? He was weak for those blue eyes that seemed to see into his soul. _Let’s face it, the rest of the package isn’t so bad either_ , Tony thought with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

It didn’t help that he and Pepper were apart right now, and he was just ‘consulting’ for the Avengers, not going on missions with the rest of the team. All that energy had just kind of built up with only FRIDAY to talk to. She was pretty fantastic, but didn’t quite fill the lonely space he felt. And maybe it was wrong to want to touch Barnes, since they were from different times… and it wasn’t like Tony could take him along whenever he went back to his own time.

 _Would it be so bad to stay?_ Tony had the thought and dismissed it as selfish. He couldn’t ask Barnes to give up the homelife he wanted and as far as Tony could tell, deserved. Giving that up for some kind of fling that could land them both in jail? Yeah, that wouldn’t be great. And what about Pepper and Rhodey? They’d worry about him too, wondering if Richards’s machine had killed him or if he was just off living his best life somewhere in time. He couldn’t do that to them.

Even so, the tentative resolve Tony had been trying to build up evaporated when Barnes walked into the room, stepping quietly to avoid waking him. He wanted those arms around him while he slept; wanted to sit across from him over morning coffee. He even wanted to argue with him about whose turn it was to take out the trash.

Maybe Tony just wanted him just because he was lonely and touch-starved, and Barnes was simply the one who was there. That had to be it – _Barnes was just a convenient outlet._ Tony even nodded to himself at the thought.

…Except that didn’t hold up either – there was nothing convenient about his insta-crush on the sergeant at all. Zero. Zip. _Nada._

“I’m not sleeping,” Tony said.

“I wasn’t sure,” Bucky mumbled awkwardly.

Tony rolled over to face the middle of the bed and caught the shadowy glimpse of Barnes taking off his uniform shirt and pants. The coals were burning low and didn’t provide much light. He hadn’t intended to stare, but there he was, eyes glued to the silhouette he could make out in the darkness of the room.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tony hesitated, “But if it’s weird, I’ll turn over and pretend.”

Barnes laughed softly, then the bed dipped under the other man’s weight. “Not too weird, I guess.” He paused, “Would it be weird for you to call me Bucky – at least while we’re here? The rest of the Howlies – my team – do.”

“Not too weird, I guess,” Tony echoed with a smile.

Bucky brushed his fingertips over Tony’s forehead, pushing a few stray locks of hair away. “I don’t know what I'm doing,” Bucky admitted.

“I tell people I do, but half the time I’m lying.”

“I’m going to Hell for half the things I’m thinking about right now.” Bucky didn’t sound sad, just very thoughtful. His tone made it a simple statement of fact.

“At least I’ll have company then,” Tony replied. He got the answer he’d been hoping for when Bucky chuckled quietly. Tony raised his hand, paused, then ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “In the pictures I’ve seen of you, you’ve got longer hair. It’s a good look for you… but I could get used to this too.”

“You’ve seen pictures of me?” Bucky’s tone was both curious and skeptical.

“I have,” Tony confirmed. He was wary of giving too much of his circumstances away, though. It would stretch his credibility too much if he said that he knew Steve personally or tried to explain the Winter Soldier. “The Howling Commandos made history… and sometimes I work with the organization that the SSR turns into down the road,” Tony offered.

“Just sometimes?” Bucky’s tone suggested he was clarifying, not interrogating.

“I’m a consultant. I consult.” Tony felt bad about keeping things from Bucky, but he didn’t want to push his luck with the possible unintended consequences of time travel either.

“On weapons? That kind of thing?” Bucky asked.

“Not exactly… more like with some of their peace-keeping operations.”

 _There._ Tony hoped that was both enough of an answer and suitably vague.

“How long is it? My hair, I mean, in those photos you were talking about.” Bucky asked, settling his hand on Tony’s hip.

Tony measured with his hand most of the way down Bucky’s neck and thanked his lucky stars that Bucky changed the subject again. “About here.”

“You’re crazy. That sounds horrible… I’m starting to doubt your taste.” Tony trailed his fingers to Bucky’s cheek and could feel him smiling.

“I’ll have you know that my taste is impeccable,” Tony answered back with mock indignation.

“You’re here with me…”

“I know, right? So weird that I’d be interested in the gorgeous blue-eyed man who’s strong enough to carry me around, probably saved my life, and also happens to laugh at my jokes. Unfathomable why I’d find you attractive.”

“Pfft…”

“What? It’s true. And you’ve got that three-day stubble going on – that’s really sexy.” Tony hadn’t intended to say any of those things, say, ten minutes ago – no matter how true they were.

Tony expected to hear a returned compliment of some sort and for the conversation to continue, but instead, Bucky leaned forward and kissed him softly. As Bucky gently stroked the side of Tony’s neck with his calloused fingertips, he gave him dozens of short kisses, testing slightly different angles, bottom lip, top lip. Tony couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been kissed so unhurriedly.

Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and his hand drifted down Bucky’s side to his waist, where he clutched the hem of Bucky’s undershirt in his fist. Even when they’d parted their lips for each other, Bucky took his time, though he moved his hands to pull Tony closer to him. Tony released Bucky’s shirt from his grasp and slid his hand under the hem to trace the lines of muscles he found there. He still felt like he was getting away with something. It was hard to believe he actually got to do this.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Bucky pulled away, then cupped his cheek to give him one more kiss. Tony’s lips felt bruised and he could feel the rawness of beard burn on the skin around his mouth.

“…Worth every minute of whatever the Lord’s got planned for me,” Bucky murmured, though Tony had missed the first part.

“The kisses were that good?” Tony managed to say, sounding about as dazed as he felt.

“ _You_ are. You’re worth it,” Bucky said, dragging his fingers down to trace Tony’s collarbone with his thumb. “I… asked yesterday if you had a girl waiting for you at home… is there somebody else?”

All Tony could do was shake his head in the negative. It was so unfair for Bucky to be so beautiful and say just what Tony most wanted to hear. Then he realized Bucky’s question required a response. “Nope. Just me by my lonesome.” And wasn’t that the truth? “I don’t really play the field like I used to. It’s quality over quantity these days.”

He could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice, “Is that what I am?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you, then,” Bucky said, laughing. The laughter faded and he asked, “Can I still hold you if we don’t…?”

“Go any farther? Yeah, that’s fine.” Tony wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not – his feet did hurt and even with the added calories from the milk, he was still hungry. On the other hand, there was a greater than fifty percent chance he’d go along with whatever Bucky wanted right now.

“You’re not mad?"

“About what? Sharing body heat with you after you kiss me like that? Uh – no?” Tony tilted his chin up and kissed Bucky on the corner of the mouth. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. Anything else is my own problem.” With that, Tony nestled further into the space inside Bucky’s arms and made himself comfortable.

Bucky kissed Tony’s forehead. “I’ve never met anybody like you before.” Tony could feel him smiling. “Pleasant dreams?”

“With you? They sure will be,” Tony said. “G’night.” He only had enough time to think, _I’ll never be able to fall asleep **now ** _, before he was out cold._****_

_****__** ** _

_****__** ** _

When he woke up, Bucky was already out of bed. Still, Tony wasn’t sure what would happen now. He could smell food cooking, though, so that wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. As he hobbled to the bathroom, Tony was glad that his feet seemed to be healing up. They still felt sore and tender, but not nearly as raw as they had even yesterday morning.

_******** _

By the time he finished there and was dressed, Bucky had his breakfast on the table for him. “Sleep all right, sugar?”

_******** _

Tony’s heart lurched happily in his chest at the pet name. “Yeah – I didn’t even hear you get up.”

_******** _

“I got up a little bit ago. Milked the cow and untied her. Got all the hay down from the loft for her so she could get at it. I gave the dog some of the porridge I made and look at him,” Bucky laughed.

_******** _

Tony glanced over and saw the dog stretched out in front of the fireplace, the picture of canine bliss. “Can we bring him with us?”

_******** _

Bucky dried his hands on a dish towel and sat at the table across from Tony. “He’s another mouth to feed… but he’s alert. Yeah, I think it’s a good idea.”

_******** _

Tony ate with more gusto at that piece of news. After breakfast, they worked together to clean up. Then they spent the morning packing their rucksacks and filling their canteens (Tony had a few empty bottles that he filled in lieu of anything military issue). Bucky checked and redressed Tony’s feet, after which Tony carefully put on his socks. Hopefully, the bandages would help keep his shoes from rubbing so much.

_******** _

After their preparations were complete, they ate a late lunch and took a nap, as they planned to leave just after the sun went down. Tony laid down on the couch while Bucky made the bed upstairs and checked one last time to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. When he finished, Bucky just lifted Tony’s head gently, sat down, and rested Tony’s head on his thigh.

_******** _

Some time later, Tony woke to the feel of Bucky’s fingers in his hair. When he stirred, Bucky yawned and stretched as well. “You sleep alright?”

_******** _

“Yeah. Anybody ever tell you that for someone so muscley, you’re extremely comfy to sleep on?” Tony sat up and cracked his neck.

_******** _

They chatted while they pulled on sweaters and outdoor clothes, but it didn’t take too long until they were on their way. They tried to follow the road as best they could. Tony was grateful for Bucky’s compass and that he had a better idea of where they were in France.

_******** _

Sometime long after Tony had stopped counting footsteps and had lost track of trying to calculate roughly how far they’d come, Bucky asked, “So what _did_ you name the dog?”

_******** _

Tony shrugged, “I didn’t. I couldn’t decide between Sir Barksalot, Pup Tart, or Droolius Caesar… although Bark Twain might be good too…”

_******** _

Snickering, Bucky said, “Why not call him Furdinand?”

_******** _

“Wha-? Oh, I see what you did there. Clever. Ha ha – very punny.” Tony’s snort of laughter at the end, though, betrayed his dismissive tone.

_******** _

“We could just call him Duke,” Bucky offered. “That’s a good name for a dog – right?”

_******** _

“It’s better than Prince, I suppose,” Tony said reluctantly, though the idea of being able to call this mutt ‘the dog formerly known as Prince’ had some appeal.

_******** _

“See? There you go. C’mon Duke,” Bucky said, giving his leg a pat.

_******** _

The dog – Duke – stood motionless on the road, staring into the darkness ahead, then began to growl low in his throat. Bucky crouched down and gestured for Tony to do the same, taking his rifle off his back and getting into position.

_******** _

Sure enough, moments later, Tony could hear an engine in the distance. A pair of headlights peeped over a rise and were gone again into the valley between hills. There really wasn’t much in the way of cover at this spot along the road, and Tony hoped they’d be mistaken for patches of melted snow. On his belly, Tony worked his way away from the side of the road as much as he could without getting in Bucky’s way or making too much noise.

_******** _

Duke, for his part, was standing his ground in the middle of the road. When the moon came out from behind the clouds, Tony could see his hackles raised. When the headlights finally got closer, Duke charged, barking and snarling, nipping at the vehicle’s wheels.

_******** _

Tony held his breath, fully expecting the next sound he heard would be the sound of his furry adventure pal being run down. He rested his nose on his hands, eyes squeezed shut, unable to look.

_******** _

The sound of the engine shifted down as the vehicle slowed and Tony heard voices, but there were too many and still just too far away for him to pick out how many people there were or what language they were speaking.

_******** _

To his right, he heard Bucky move and he opened his eyes to see Bucky craning his head up to get a better look. “Sonofabitch – I don’t believe it,” Bucky muttered, sounding astonished. He whistled. To Tony it sounded enough like a bird that if he hadn’t known it was a person making the sound, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

_******** _

Now that the vehicle was closer, Tony could see it was a bunch of men in a couple of jeeps or something similar. Duke was still barking at them and snapping whenever one of the men tried to reach toward him as they rolled forward at a snail’s pace. Tony could only hope they’d slowed to avoid hitting his dog – and not because they’d been seen.

_******** _

“That thing’s gonna take off your hand, Dugan! You don’t know – it could be rabid.”

_******** _

Another voice, presumably Dugan, said, “Aw… he’s just scared – he wouldn’t bite me. Would ya buddy?” To which Duke lunged and general chuckles circulated in the first jeep.

_******** _

Then both vehicles stopped. Poor Duke was growling and barking so savagely that if Tony hadn’t seen him conked out in front of the fireplace earlier that day, he’d never have believed it was possible for him to be so calm.

_******** _

Meanwhile, Bucky hadn’t whistled again and stayed motionless in his position, so Tony followed suit.

_******** _

“Did you hear something?” a voice that Tony recognized as belonging to Steve Rogers asked the other occupants of the jeep.

_******** _

“Yeah – this dog,” the first voice said.

_******** _

Bucky cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, “Hey! Lose somethin’, punk?”

_******** _

The burst of relieved laughter and Steve’s, “All right, turn it around, fellas! We’re never going to find him out here!” made Tony yearn for home and the days when he and Steve had almost seen eye to eye.

_******** _

Bucky jumped up, shouldered his rifle, and offered Tony a hand up, which he gladly took. “I’m just about frozen solid, I think,” Tony said.

_******** _

“Maybe you wanna call Duke before he makes a pest of himself?” Bucky suggested, grinning. Tension that he hadn’t realized Bucky was carrying, faded.

_******** _

Tony couldn’t help but smile along with him and whistled for Duke, who trotted over, pleased as punch with himself. He ruffled Duke’s ears, saying, “Who’s a good dog?” Duke barked joyfully in response – as if the snarling hellhound of three minutes ago had never existed.

_******** _

Steve and a couple others got out of the jeeps and gave Bucky hugs or rough pats on the back. “Who’s your friend, Buck?” Steve asked, wariness hanging off every word.

_******** _

“One of the good guys,” Bucky answered. He gestured between his best friend and- “Tony, Steve. Steve, Tony.”

_******** _

Steve reached over and shook Tony’s hand. “I’m Captain Steve Rogers. We can do the rest of the introductions later. You are…?” Clearly he expected something like name, rank, serial number or something like it.

_******** _

“Tony S-Smith.” He nearly said ‘Stark,’ but as it was, it sounded like he was unsure about his last name.

_******** _

Steve didn’t bother to hide the glance he shot Bucky. Bucky squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “He’s fine. More of a Carter thing than a Phillips thing.”

_******** _

That answer didn’t seem to do much to relieve Steve’s concerns, but he nodded. “All right then – if you’re sure.”

_******** _

Tony knew that he was watching Bucky’s face for tells of anything amiss and he looked away to give them that moment, so hopefully Steve would decide that Bucky’s reassurance was freely given. He scratched Duke’s nose and then thought he should give the dog a drink after all that barking, so he very slowly removed his rucksack. He retrieved a bowl and one of his bottles of water and poured some.

_******** _

Tony murmured compliments to Duke, who wagged his tail, but was more interested in the water.

_******** _

“I’m sure,” Bucky said firmly.

_******** _

“All right, then. We’ll get going when…?”

_******** _

“Duke,” Tony and Bucky supplied at the same time.

_******** _

Steve glanced between them, a question hovering on his face, but he let it pass and continued, “When Duke finishes his drink.”

_******** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Bucky's from a generation that had to do a lot of rote memorization in school. He's misquoting part of Ophelia's conversation with her brother Laertes in [Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3, 46–51](https://www.playshakespeare.com/hamlet/scenes/act-i-scene-3#line044).
> 
> The other poem he's thinking about is ["On Love"](https://poets.org/poem/love-8>) by Kahlil Gibran, part of _The Prophet_.


	5. Falling Is Easy

The good news is, you don't have to worry, you can't change the past.

The bad news is, you don't have to worry, no matter how hard you try, you can't change the past. 

**–Charles Yu, How to Live Safely in a Science Fiction Universe**

Tony hadn’t expected to be greeted with open arms by Agent Peggy Carter or Colonel Phillips. He’d known that Aunt Peggy was tough as nails, but wow she was a force to be reckoned with if you weren’t on her good side. After they’d arrived back at the Army camp, the only people he saw were Peggy and the hulking, grim-faced MP who brought him to and from the interrogations.

He honestly had no idea how much time had passed since they’d arrived. The inside of the semi-permanent tent where they held him was dark. He had a cot and plenty of blankets, but nothing else to think about or do. That was probably part of the point. He was nearly ready to tell Agent Carter whatever she wanted to hear just to see what happened next.

He’d gone over in minute detail everything that had happened since he’d arrived. Tony had no idea what Bucky had said, but he had to assume he’d been questioned. The only things Tony left out were the personal parts that weren’t relevant to her inquiries. It wasn’t any of her business whether or not he was attracted to Bucky or that they’d kissed. Giving her any of that would just get them both into even bigger trouble. And it wasn’t relevant. She was concerned he was a spy or AWOL. He wasn’t either, so adding more noise to her data set wouldn’t help matters anyway.

Staring into the shadowy corners of the thick canvas ceiling, Tony went over details about plans to get home, but with no way to take notes, he found himself slipping into circular logic patterns. Tabling those plans until a pencil came into his possession, he wondered again what Bucky might be doing… and what happened to Duke.

Tony clasped his hands over his stomach and closed his eyes, concentrating on the sounds of men moving around and talking. It helped him not feel so alone, but since there wasn’t anything to see, even the sounds of life going on without him seemed unreal.

As his thoughts returned to Bucky again, Tony was startled out of his thoughts by the bright burst of light from the tent flap opening. He sat up and shielded his eyes with his hand, his eyes stinging from the sudden glare of daylight.

“Smith,” the MP said flatly, gesturing toward the outside world.

Tony stood, knowing what was expected of him and that the glib humor that tended to take over when he was nervous wouldn’t help him now. This MP’s name patch proclaimed him to be “Bingley,” and Tony wanted to ask him about Darcy in the worst way. Pepper would be proud to know that all those period dramas he’d watched with her had wormed their way into his psyche. Instead, Tony just said, “Morning sunshine.”

The MP glared at him and Tony put on his best press conference smile and forced his shoulders into the semblance of indifference and strolled along as though there was nowhere he’d rather go than to talk to Agent Peggy Carter _again._

Inside the space that had set up for interrogation purposes, Tony sat in his usual uncomfortable metal folding chair and waited. Really, it was a good thing that the Ten Rings hadn’t combined their heavy-handed torture techniques with Peggy’s more subtle psychological manipulation. Being able to name it didn’t mean it couldn’t still be effective, though, so Tony tried to stay alert.

Agent Carter sat across from him a few minutes later. “Mr. Smith, I’ve decided to try something new.”

Tony’s skin crawled and he wished his imagination didn’t have so much personal experience to draw from when inventing the ‘next worst thing to happen to Tony Stark.’ Maybe he’d write a book when he got back home. He forced his attention back to Peggy. “Variety’s the spice of life – or so they say.”

Peggy took a breath with something like long-suffering irritation and then smiled pleasantly at him. “I’ve decided you should explain your ideas for time travel to the head of our science team.”

Head of the science team? _Wait – wasn’t that?_ An MP brought another chair and Howard Stark followed, sitting next to Peggy. Tony’s heart felt like it stuttered in his chest and his stomach sank. No wonder Aunt Peggy had mixed him up with Howard the last few times he’d visited. _Holy shit._

“This the guy, Pegs?” Howard asked after the briefest glance.

“He’s the one,” Peggy confirmed, looking extremely pleased with herself.

“All right, pal, let’s get this over with. Time travel, huh? Tell me what you told Agent Carter here so we can all get back to more important stuff,” Howard said.

“You’re Howard Stark,” Tony blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Bingo. Got it in one. Now spill – I don’t have all day, pal,” Howard said, unimpressed and tapping his shoe against the table leg.

“Then bring me a blackboard and let me blow your mind. _Pal._ ” Tony was sure his dislike for Howard was leaking, but these two had barked up the wrong tree, trying to catch him in a non-existent lie.

Peggy arched an eyebrow and exchanged glances with Howard who shrugged and nodded.

Tony used all his self-control not to smirk. They thought they were giving him the rope to hang himself. _Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night…_

The three of them waited in silence until the blackboard arrived. Slate. He was going to write with _chalk. Ugh…_ Well, it was better than not having anything to write with at all.

“All right Stark. You’re familiar with Eddington’s theory about the arrow of time? Demonstrates the asymmetry of time.” Tony glanced at Peggy. “That’s the idea that observable events around us only make sense if they proceed in one direction – forward – as we perceive it.”

Howard nodded, his attention now much more keenly focused.

Tony continued, “All right. And you also know Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. Well, it’s become – will become, I guess – clear that the uncertainty principle occurs in quantum mechanics because quantum particles behave like waves. And when you bring in the observer effect as you measure a particle’s position, the other measurable factors like its velocity become uncertain.”

He started rapidly filling the blackboard with equations as he spoke, getting caught up in his explanation. Tony didn’t notice Howard leaning forward in his chair, elbows on the table, all attention.

“I gave Sergeant Barnes the no-math version. You two get as much of the explanation as I can give, since I didn’t create the machine that sent me here myself. If I had, I sure as hell wouldn’t have sent myself under the goddamn ocean. That man is a menace and …not what I want to talk about.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder at his audience. “For the sake of the non-physicist in the room, I’ll give an example like the one I gave Barnes. We send an electron back in time and someone measures it while it’s there. Under the classical theory of relativity, the particle’s other properties are altered because its position in time has been measured.” He gesticulated with the chalk.

“But that’s not what happens! Under experimental conditions, measurement doesn’t have much effect at all! And the farther back you send that electron, the less alteration in the electron itself. The variables that your perception of time assume would act against our electron are what actually help keep it stable when it goes back to its point of origin.”

Tony’s hand was cramping from writing so rapidly. The chalk squeaked on the slate blackboard as Tony proceeded to draw a diagram until his chalk splintered and broke into pieces.

Howard was leaning so far forward that he was almost out of his seat. His eyes flew over the equations and diagrams. In hushed tones, Howard said, “You’re saying Schröedinger’s equation is reversible under the right circumstances…. Holy shit.” He flopped back in his chair, shocked. “Holy fucking shit.”

When it was clear that neither man was going to say anything more without prompting, Peggy looked at Howard. “Well?”

Howard’s eyes were still checking and rechecking Tony’s math, following the logic. “As much as I hate to admit it, everything he’s talking about is theoretically possible.”

Peggy jabbed a finger toward Tony. “You. Out.”

Tony wiped his hands on his pants and went out with the MP. He could hear Peggy and Howard arguing. _Loudly discussing_ , as his Aunt Peggy would say thirty some-odd years from now.

“What do you want me to say, Peg?! You wanted to know if the guy’s a fake or not. I don’t know if he’s from the future, but _that?_ That’s beyond anything we’ve got. If he’s telling the truth that he’s a mechanic? It’s a goddamn crime. He’s wasted on it. This is brilliant – a real thing of beauty.” Howard said, sounding both impressed and excited.

That was the last thing Tony heard clearly before the MP led him out of earshot. Tony couldn’t quite process the emotions he felt at the praise from his father. _At least I didn’t’ call him ‘Dad,’_ he thought to himself as he entered his poorly lit temporary home.

* * *

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. When Steve had demanded answers about where he’d found Tony and who the hell he was, Bucky had told him… most of the story. At least the part about finding him wandering around in the middle of a bombing raid looking for the dog and the basics: Tony’s blisters, the cow, the dog, that Tony hadn’t asked any questions about the Howlies or about Captain America. He doubted Steve was satisfied with his explanation, but Carter was doing the interrogating and Steve trusted her and her judgement.

Since Tony had been isolated for questioning, Duke slept next to Bucky and followed him everywhere since the higher-ups wouldn’t let him stay with Tony. The Howlies had even taken Duke with them to Belgium because the dog was only docile when he was with Bucky (or Tony) and none of the other members of their unit wanted to put him down. Bucky thought that the scruffy white dog with brown and tan marks on its head had won over a lot of hearts when he’d laid in front of the door to Tony’s tent and only moved when Bucky picked him up bodily and carried him away. That kind of loyalty meant something to these guys.

In Belgium, Duke laid next to him, still as anything while they were in Bucky’s sniper nest, the dog’s warmth a comforting presence. Duke had earned the Howlies’ respect too when he’d stopped dead in his tracks and growled at a stand of shrubs. Turned out there had been an ambush waiting for them up ahead and Duke had stopped them from blundering right into it.

Still, as much as Bucky liked having Duke around, his presence served as a constant reminder of the man who _wasn’t_ there. As their transport from Belgium bumped along the road toward camp, Bucky wondered what he’d find when he got there. Was Carter done interrogating him? Would he be able to talk to Tony again?

He tried not to think about the possibility that Carter had decided Tony was a threat and sent him away to a POW camp or worse – had him executed as a spy. His stomach turned at that thought, and he had to swallow rapidly to keep from puking on his boots.

Dugan elbowed him, “Come on, Sarge – Cap’s driving isn’t _that_ bad.”

Bucky managed a grin and rejoined the conversation going on around him.

When he and the Howlies finally returned to camp, January was almost half over. It’d been over three weeks since they’d come upon Steve, Dugan, and the rest of the team. Nearly a month… and not a day went by that he hadn’t thought about Tony. It wasn’t just wanting to hold someone at night either. He thought of Tony when Falsworth told an especially bad joke or when Steve split his pants crouching down low to the ground. And every time he opened one of those damned cans in his K-Ration, he tried to imagine what Tony would do to make it taste better.

As he and the rest of the Howlies cleaned and stowed their gear, Steve went to debrief with Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter. Even if he wanted to, Bucky couldn’t go around asking about Tony without raising suspicions. Instead, he lost himself in the nooks and crannies of his rifle as he cleaned it and checked that and his other equipment for damage.

Steve rejoined them in the mess hall at dinner that evening, shaking his head. “You’ll never believe this. That Smith character talked his way out of detention.”

 _Smith?_ It took Bucky a moment to realize that Steve meant _Tony_. “Oh yeah?” he replied, trying to sound neutral about it, “Good for him.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve said, “Apparently, he’s some kind of genius or something. Stark brought him in to work on some of his projects analyzing the weapons we brought out of the Hydra bases.”

Bucky frowned slightly to himself. Surely Tony wouldn’t be happy building weapons again. “Trying to duplicate them?”

Steve shook his head, “Nah… it’s something else. Top secret. I guess they’ve hired him in a civilian role like Stark.”

Bucky grunted in reply and stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth. What could he say? _‘See – I told you Stevie! I knew there was something I liked about him other than what he looks like in his skivvies.’_ Still, he looked across the room when Duke lifted his head, ears perked up.

Bucky’s eyes were still scanning the crowded mess hall when Duke gave a joyful bark and leapt to his feet, tearing across the mess hall floor at top speed.

“Well, you might as well go after him,” Steve said, looking both amused and slightly resigned.

“Don’t eat my food,” Bucky said as he stood, thought better of it, picked up the dinner roll he’d just buttered and took it with him.

Heart in his mouth and following the sound of happy dog, Bucky found Tony holding his tray out of Duke’s reach. Tony glanced at Bucky and handed him the tray so he could crouch down and pet the happiest dog in the world.

Bucky had been just about to say something, when Howard Stark peeked over at the commotion. “I hope you’re not planning to bring your furry friend into the lab with you, Smith. Wouldn’t want him poking his nose around and getting zapped.”

Stark sounded friendly enough, but an emotion Bucky couldn’t identify slid across Tony’s features for a split second before it was gone again. Tony ruffled the dog’s ears. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s such a good boy – aren’t you, Duke? I missed you.” He looked up, “Hey Buckaroo, long time no see.”

On one hand, Bucky was grateful that nothing in Tony’s demeanor would lead anyone to think that anything ‘untoward’ had happened while they were stuck together. On the other, though, it made him feel kind of stupid for the way his heart was pounding… and for carrying around the little ornament he’d made for Tony when he’d thought the interrogations would be done before Christmas.

“Hi, Smith. Duke’s been missing you. I... took him with us when we left a week or so back. Sorry he wasn’t here when you finished your debrief.” Bucky thought ‘debrief’ was an understatement, but polite. “If you want a spot to sit, I can make the guys scoot over.”

Stark interrupted, “Sorry, no can do, Sarge. We’re running some experiments and we really should already be back.”

Tony shrugged as if to say, ‘it can’t be helped.’ “Sorry Barnes. Some other time,” Tony said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then Tony kissed the top of Duke’s head and whispered something in the dog’s ear that Bucky couldn’t catch with all the noise of conversation and clattering utensils.

Bucky swallowed his disappointment. _What did you expect in the middle of the mess hall?_ he chided himself. Handing Tony his tray back, he said, “Yeah. See you around.”

He turned and walked out of the tent because there was no way he could keep his face from giving at least something away if he sat down with the Howlies again. Bucky found a place to sit on the bumper of one of the transport vehicles and stared into the night, lit as it was with stars and the moon. Moments later, Duke came trotting up next to him and pressed his head against Bucky’s leg. In the relative quiet, Bucky scratched behind the dog’s ears and tore pieces off his dinner roll, feeding them to Duke.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice reached out carefully as Bucky felt the truck shift when Steve’s weird new giant body leaned against it.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Bucky said, not looking up from his task of feeding bits of bread to Duke.

Minutes passed in silence before Steve added, “I brought the rest of your dinner.”

“I ain’t hungry, Ma,” Bucky retorted.

Steve sighed, exasperated, “We’ve got our next mission. I need you to –”

“You need. The team needs. Yeah, I know. I got it. Fine. Can’t even give me fifteen fucking minutes to feel sorry for myself. Christ, Stevie,” Bucky snapped, then felt even worse. None of how he felt had anything to do with Steve and it wasn’t fair to lash out at him.

Steve shifted awkwardly and the truck swayed on its axles. “For what it’s worth, I’m real sorry Buck.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he mumbled in response.

Another moment passed without either speaking, then Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m sorry anyway, then.”

“Sure are,” Bucky quipped, his heart still not really in it, but the alternative – tears – was unacceptable. At least it startled a chuckle out of Steve.

After a second, Steve asked, “Howard Stark?”

Bucky grunted.

“I hear that,” Steve said with a sigh. “When I was in the plane getting ready to jump – over Kreischberg – he asked Peggy out for _fondue._ ”

Bucky shook his head annoyed. “Makes me want to punch him right in the nose.”

“Who are we punching?” Tony asked. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Tony’s voice startled Bucky and Steve out of further talk about violence against Howard Stark’s person. Steve jerked his hand away from Bucky’s shoulder as though he’d been burned. “Nope. Make sure Bucky eats his dinner,” Steve said and walked away awfully fast for someone who generally disapproved of the people Bucky liked as a rule.

“What?” Tony asked, confusion written on his face, quickly replaced with concern. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt while you were gone?” His eyes flicked across Bucky’s face, searching.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “Nah. I’m fine. Why’re you here? Thought you had stuff to do.” He hoped he didn’t sound as sulky as he felt.

Tony’s jaw set and Bucky saw the tendons on the corners of his jaw twitch. “When we got back to the workshop, I told Stark I didn’t need him to speak for me and that I could spare a few minutes to say more than two words to the guy who saved my life.” Tony sounded livid. “I didn’t want to say that in front of everybody, though. …Stark’s just not used to anyone telling him no,” his anger fading the longer he spoke.

“You told off Howard Stark?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, I did. There’s a first time for everything, I guess” Tony said with a shrug. “I wanted to make sure you were really okay after your… field trip. You know, see for myself.”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay.” The remaining doubts in his mind about whether or not he was sweet on Tony were firmly quashed with the way his mood improved so fast. “They tell you that Duke came with us? Stayed right with me the whole time.”

“Yeah, one of the MPs told me once they decided I could be useful.” Tony stood close enough that when he touched the toe of his boot to Bucky’s, as if by accident, he was able to do so without having it look unnatural. He handed Bucky the covered plate of food from the hood of the car. “You need your vitamins or something.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but a smile caught at the corners of his mouth.

Before Bucky could reply, Tony glanced around and in hushed tones, he said, “I missed you… they didn’t tell me anything about you for so long that I didn’t know…” Tony tried again, “I didn’t know if you were safe or not.”

Bucky nudged Tony’s boot with his own. He finished his food quickly – he’d already been halfway done before stepping away from the table – and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Somebody wouldn’t let me forget that I’m not you.” He glanced down at Duke, who looked very pleased with himself.

Tony smiled and leaned down to ruffle Duke’s head again. “That’s because he’s such a good boy. Aren’t you? Yes – I know you are, pupperino!”

Chuckling, Bucky said, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Come on, you love it,” Tony said quietly, glancing up at him, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“So help me, you might be right,” Bucky mumbled, trying to conceal a smile. “Got something for you. I’ve been holding onto it since Christmas.” He pulled out the airmail envelope and handed it to Tony, who stood up and made grabby hands for it.

“What is it?”

“First you need to say the magic words,” Bucky replied, holding the envelope out of Tony’s reach.

“Hmmm… Gimme,” Tony guessed.

“Nope. You gotta work on your manners, Smith,” Bucky said, unable to hide his smile any longer. “You’ve only got two more guesses.”

“…Gimme _please_ ,” Tony tried, raising his eyebrows.

God, he’d missed this man, Bucky thought to himself. “Gonna have to do better than that.”

Tony glanced around, then leaned closer and whispered, “Please Sergeant? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Bucky felt his face flush. He handed over the envelope. “You’re a menace, Mr. Smith.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Sergeant Barnes,” Tony said primly as he created some more distance between them and slid a finger under the flap of the envelope. Inside was a silver star folded out of Wrigley’s spearmint gum wrappers.

Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s not really anything, but…” He shrugged.

“No, it’s perfect – I love it.” Tony looked up at him for a long moment and Bucky wondered what Tony saw. “Really… thank you.”

He would’ve really liked to be able to kiss Tony here – or at least hold his hand, but people were starting to leave the mess hall. They couldn’t risk it.

A cluster of voices laughed and was moving closer. Bucky straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the truck. “Gotta take the dishes back to the mess hall. If you still got time.”

Tony batted his eyelashes, then ruined the flirty effect by laughing and bumping his shoulder against Bucky’s arm. Once they started walking and there was enough noise to cover his voice, Tony whispered, “Your idea of a date and mine are very different.”

Bucky’s laughter in response was absorbed by the voices of the other men leaving the mess hall, heading to their bunks.

* * *

“Come on, Smith, smile for the camera!” Gabe Jones said, trying to coax Tony out of the scowl plastered across his face. He stood posed and draped with the Howling Commandos’ rifles like an animate khaki Christmas tree.

“Unlike the lot of you, _I_ have work to do,” Tony grumbled, “Do you guys really have nothing better to do with your time?”

Dugan laughed and elbowed Steve, “You’re building morale, Smith. See? I’m smiling already!”

“Just don’t make him mad – Smith’s gonna make sure the wheels are attached when we roll out tomorrow,” Steve’s face was relaxed and happy. Tony thought the look suited him much more than the tense, pinched expression he remembered from his own time. He also had to admit that the longer, old-fashioned haircut worked for Rogers. He’d been sorry when future-Steve had cut it short in a more twenty-first century look.

And it was true, Tony had been temporarily shuffled to mechanic duty to replace a guy who’d smashed his thumb doing something ill-advised with a jury-rigged engine hoist. Honestly, he didn’t really mind having a break from Howard.

 _It’d been how many months?_ Nearly four. It was April and the mud, intermittent rain showers, and slightly warmer weather let them know spring was on the way. Tony had been working with Howard to try to figure out ways to shield Allied troops from Hydra’s Tesseract-powered weaponry without much success.

It was extremely challenging to keep as much future science to himself as possible and to remember what materials they had to work with. Tony had lost count of all the pencils he’d worn down to nubs. _Pencils! Tony Stark using pencil and paper for science-ing._ The universe was a cruel, cruel mistress.

The weirdest part of working with Howard was… that he seemed to _like_ Tony Smith. In some ways, he and Howard were uncomfortably similar. Tony wanted to dislike him for all the shit he’d been put through as a kid, but… this Howard was only a few years older than Tony had been when his parents had died in the car wreck. No matter how much he tried at first, Tony couldn’t hate this guy who’d grow up to be his father. _And wasn’t that a change of pace._

Instead, Tony found himself wondering what the hell had happened to Howard that had turned him into the man Tony had grown up with. Wondered if Howard’s occasional theatrics and attention-seeking behavior came from the same desire Tony had felt – fewer years ago than he cared to admit – for approval, for some real affection, all the while doing his best to chase it away. That was one of the questions that kept Tony up these days. _See?_ This _is why time travel is a bad idea_ , he’d thought to himself more than once.

But on the other hand, Howard was also funneling parts and his own money into building a device they were _fairly_ sure wouldn’t turn Tony into a fine red mist when travelling back to the future. Something that resembled strawberry jam was not out of the question yet, though.

“Well, that’s going to have to be good enough. Thanks, Smith! I’m sending this with my Christmas cards this year!” Jones laughed.

“We better be on that list,” Steve laughed.

Gabe Jones rolled his eyes, scoffing, “You think I’m gonna waste stamps on you and this sorry lot?”

Mock outrage and bets about when the war would be over circulated around Tony, who still felt somewhat dazed from being startled out of his thoughts.

Bucky stood and walked over from the place where he’d been lounging near Steve. He was grinning just like the rest of them. “You know, you don’t need to keep holding ‘em.”

“I didn’t _have_ to in the first place,” Tony grumbled.

“Those were the terms of the loan, though,” Bucky said, tugging on Tony’s sleeve, “for the new duds. What happened that your clothes got ruined?”

“A lab accident is all you need to know,” he said, still feeling grouchy about the whole thing from accident to present, and started handing the rifles over to Bucky.

Bucky chuckled.

“I take back anything nice I ever said about you. I never liked you,” Tony said, scowling.

Bucky laughed harder.

Mock-offended, Tony continued, “In fact, Jacques is my favorite now. Parce qu'il ne m'insulte qu'en français,” _Because he only insults me in French._

Dernier laughed and tipped his hat. “Quand tu veux mon ami!” _Whenever you want, my friend!_

Bucky shot a glance to Jones, who was chuckling to himself about the exchange too. Jones just mimicked buttoning his lips and shook his head.

Tony nodded, feeling more satisfied. Jones, Dugan, and the rest were good guys, and he didn’t really mind being a little bit silly if it helped their mental health – at least in the short term. It was the least he could do.

He’d been prepared to dislike the Howling Commandos on principle after hearing so much about them from Howard. Tony had to admit, though, that he liked these guys. They were funny (usually), worked well as a team, and competent too. Tony wondered, _Could the Avengers have been like this?_

Handing the helmet back to Bucky, Tony said, “All right, it’s been fun kids, but I really need to get back.”

The chorus of “Bye! See ya later! Get outta here!” and the like, all said from a place of camaraderie, brought a smile to Tony’s face.

On his way back to the truck, Tony wished he could find more time alone with Bucky. He was pretty sure Steve had at least an inkling that they were attracted to each other, but the other guys didn’t – at least Tony didn’t think so.

Later, while Tony was finishing up the truck’s tune up, Duke woofed good-naturedly and yipped happily. Wiping his hands on a shop towel, Tony looked up to see Bucky rubbing the dog’s ears. “Hey, checking up on me?”

“Nah, just wanted to…” Bucky shrugged and watched other GIs walking around camp. There was less than zero privacy.

“I’m done with this one – the truck you and the Howlies are taking out tomorrow, but I need to work on Phillips’s jeep. Somebody wore out the clutch. Not that I’m naming names or anything,” Tony said, grinning. “If you’ve got time and want to keep me company, I don’t mind.”

“You sure I won’t be bothering you?” Bucky asked and squinched his eyes shut while Duke gave him a few doggy kisses on the cheek.

“Nope. You’ll be fine. Say, I got a letter from your sister Becca… she said you told her some sob story that I didn’t get any mail?” Tony asked, eyebrow raised before he turned his attention to the jeep on car stands and slid under the vehicle on the mechanic’s creeper, wrench in hand.

They ended up talking for almost an hour while Bucky handed him tools. Just about their families, friends back home, whatever came to mind. It wasn’t particularly flirty since anyone could overhear them, but it soothed the part of Tony that was sometimes inclined to feel jealous of the Howlies just because they got to spend time with Bucky.

Tony knew that envy wasn’t rational, but he felt that way anyway in the weeks while Bucky was away on missions. It was easier to feel angry – however irrational it was – than to focus on the terror he felt each time they left. The Howlies didn’t even have real body armor. And while part of his mind told him that since they’d survived through the same missions in the timeline Tony was from – and that if his theories about changing events was sound – then the team and Bucky would come back safely this time too.

 _But what if you’re wrong_ , the other part of him whispered. _What if that was the last time you’ll see him?_ Every time they left camp to go on their Hydra hunting missions, Tony’s traitor brain tortured him this way.

Honestly, it was the main reason he got so much done on Howard’s research projects and their effort to build the time machine. Working helped keep him distracted. It wasn’t great as coping mechanisms went, but it’s what he had right now… and what he knew best.

 _1944._ Tony still couldn’t quite believe it. Sometimes when he was tired enough, Tony wondered if he’d just dreamt the future and was just an amnesiac who’d just filled in the spaces. He never believed it enough to stop working on the Super Time Reflector Express – Stark & Son model. Not that he said that aloud. He just called it the STRESS.

Tony didn’t remember all the missions the Howling Commandos went on. As a kid, he hadn’t been interested when Howard talked about them. During those stories, it just felt like Captain America and the Howling Commandos were just another impossible standard that Tony could never live up to. As the weeks slid past, he wished kid-Tony had paid more attention to give the current-Tony more peace of mind.

Taking out a Hydra submarine base, on the ground for D-Day and the liberation of Paris, then working toward the liberation of France; the Howling Commandos and the rest of the 107th Infantry were constantly on the move.

It was mid-September and Tony had hardly seen Bucky at all in the months since Gabe Jones had taken that photo. Tony wished there were something he could do, so the Howlies would get a few extra days of leave, but after examining the problem from all angles, there wasn’t anything he wasn’t already doing.

September slid into October and November. Another month and he’ll have been there for a full year. Working with Howard still weirded him out sometimes, but as a colleague he was all right. Funny, even. At Thanksgiving, Howard had gotten drunk and told Tony about how just before summer, someone had stolen a formula of his that was supposed to help keep people alert… but it hadn’t worked that way, which had been why Howard hadn’t turned it over to the government.

The guilt he’d seen in Howard’s eyes reflected his own. Some for things that he’d done and others for things people had done with things he’d created. To have all that and more on your shoulders at twenty-seven? Tony still wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to forgive Howard for the kind of father he’d been, but this certainly lanced that boil of hatred he’d carried so long.

He stared at the pages of figures in front of him and rubbed his eyes. He could work a little longer. They’d been able to send mice back and forth in time seemingly successfully and had finally figured out a coating that helped disperse some of the energy from Hydra’s energy weapons. Not enough to save lives, yet, but enough to stop men from being vaporized.

“Tony.”

Tony felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was a warm hand, and he didn’t mind. “Hmmm…? Msddfwefsgl….”

A quiet chuckle and Tony heard the soft scrape of another chair being pulled up close beside him. “Working yourself into the ground again? I wish you wouldn’t do that, sugar.”

He felt something warm draped over his shoulders and sighed happily and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Are you waking up?” Bucky asked.

“Nope,” Tony said sleepily, “gonna keep dreaming about you.”

“Sweet talker,” Bucky replied, sounding entertained.

“Says you. Takes one to know one.” Tony cracked his eyes open. He’d fallen asleep at the desk over his latest pages of calculations, resting his head on his arms. Seeing Bucky looking back at him, Tony sat up, stretched, and yawned. “Are you really here?”

“Yup – in the flesh. Came to see you while the other fellas were fighting over the showers,” Bucky said, brushing a strand of hair off Tony’s forehead. “So, I stink, but we’ve got a minute to ourselves. Stark ain’t here.”

Tony swiveled around in the desk chair, verifying the truth of the statement, then threw his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I missed you.”

Bucky pulled Tony into his lap. “Missed you too.”

“I don’t care if you stink, ‘cause it means you’re alive and safe,” Tony said, his eyes stinging. He still felt a little bleary from sleeping for who knows how long at the desk, but if this was how he got woken up, he didn’t care.

Tony wasn’t sure how long they held each other like that. But then Bucky tilted his head, leaned closer and kissed him. It was everything Tony remembered and more.

All too soon, though, they were interrupted by the sound of someone having a coughing fit outside. Reluctantly, Bucky let Tony sit back in his own chair and made more space between their chairs.

Steve poked his head inside. “Hey, uh… shower’s free Buck.” Blushing furiously, he added, “I… uh… tried to give you as long as I could.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky said, “I’ll be right there.”

Steve nodded a greeting to Tony and left again.

Bucky stood. “You gonna sit with us in the mess hall? At least sometimes? We’re gonna be in camp for a couple weeks at least before we head out again.”

Tony didn’t particularly want to share his limited time with Bucky with anyone else, but if it was chat with the group or nothing, he didn’t want to miss a minute. “Group date, huh?” He winked at Bucky. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”

* * *

A couple weeks was all they had before they headed out again – to Stalingrad this time. Bucky was tired of all the traveling. Still, they’d been able to save most of a full battalion of Allied troops that had been pinned down by Hydra.

Steve had gotten a message that when they got back to camp, there was a lot to discuss. Apparently, Peggy had gotten a big break with some choice intelligence. What it was, she hadn’t risked communicating, so Steve was chomping at the bit to get them back quickly.

He bit back a groan after a particularly vicious pothole. If he had his way, he’d never let Steve drive again once they were stateside. The man was a demon behind the wheel on the best days. Today, like the postal service, neither rain, sleet, nor snow was going to get in the way of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos.

Bucky gritted his teeth as he felt their transport slide around a curve in the road, the wheels skating across ice until they found purchase again. He fingered the St. Christopher’s medal his mother had sent him. A few Hail Marys would definitely not hurt right now. And one to St. Christopher to keep them from skidding off the road. _Protect us in our travels along the road. Please, for the love of God, keep us on the road._

His eyes snapped open when Dugan elbowed him, “ _Now’s_ when you’re prayin’?”

“You’re not?” Bucky snapped.

Dugan chuckled, “I figured I asked for enough when he agreed not to go over the mountains.”

Bucky laughed until the transport truck swayed again.

When they finally got back to camp, Bucky’s first stop was to light a candle in the chapel. His hair hadn’t turned instantly white, but he was sure that if he looked, there’d be more grey hairs mixed in with the brown. They only had time to unload, clean up, and eat before they were getting debriefed on the Stalingrad mission while Steve was being read into the intelligence Peggy had gathered.

That the higher-ups wanted to move this fast wasn’t a good sign as far as having time to see Tony while they were back. _The faster you win the war, the faster you can see him whenever you want to_ , he told himself during dinner that evening. Between the two of them, they’d figure out the particulars.

“You’re going to fall asleep in your mashed potatoes, Barnes,” Tony said as he slid into the seat next to Bucky, grinning at him and the rest of the Howlies. “I heard you lot of troublemakers decided to show up. Figured I’d come see for myself.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Bucky grumbled and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and glanced at Tony, who had dark circles under his eyes to rival Jean Harlow after a bender. “Anyway, look who’s talkin’. They’re not giving you bennies are they?”

“Ha – no – I turned those down. Just lots of coffee. But I think we finally made the break-through we were hoping for. We were able to apply some of the research from one project to a couple of others and now we’re ahead of where we expected to be.” Tony punctuated his animated story with a yawn so wide his jaw made a cracking sound.

“Sleep a little, maybe?” Bucky suggested as he went back to eating his mashed potatoes and mystery meat with gravy.

“I think,” Tony said, spearing a few canned green beans, “that if the Army gave medals for mother henning, you’d get one for sure.”

Bucky swallowed and opened his mouth to protest, but Steve was laughing his ass off, so he just scowled instead.

“If you’re not careful, your face’ll freeze like that,” Tony quipped, making Dugan and Falsworth join in the laughter.

“Yeah, well Steve drove from Stalingrad to Greece and it scared years off my fuckin’ life. Give me Hydra tanks any day,” Bucky said, feeling too tired and grouchy to be nice.

Dugan laughed harder and Morita cracked a smile when Steve started complaining. “Hey! My driving’s not _that_ bad!”

Tony joined in the laughter and the conversation turned to things Tony had news about: baseball, when the next USO show would be, and how the radio serials they followed were going. If the toe of Tony’s boot touched Bucky’s ankle, nobody but the two of them noticed.

Seeing and talking with Tony, just being able to be together, was wonderful and Bucky felt some of the tension he’d been accumulating in his shoulders start to relax. It’d only be better if he and Tony could share a bed again. Those couple of nights had been the best sleep he’d had since arriving from the States.

“…rnes. …Bucky.”

Someone nudged him and Bucky blinked his eyes open slowly. “What?”

“Eat your peaches before somebody steals them,” Tony said.

Bucky looked down at his tray where the canned peaches sat. If he never ate canned fruit again as long as he lived, it’d be too soon. He cut them up with the side of his fork anyway, grumbling only semi-coherently the whole time.

“Steve’s a terrible driver,” he muttered once he’d finished his dinner.

“I know,” Tony said patiently.

“How d’you know?” Bucky still felt irritable even though he’d fallen asleep on their flight back to camp from Greece – and apparently twice now during dinner.

“You said so before, Sergeant,” Tony said. Bucky’s imagination added _Sleepyhead_ at the end. Then Tony was prodding with his elbow again. “Seriously, Barnes. Just take your tray up and go to bed.

“Now who’s mother henning?” Bucky grumbled.

“No medals for me, I’m not in the Army – so it doesn’t count,” Tony piped back.

“Fuck off, you’re too damn cheerful,” Bucky muttered, then stood up and took his tray to the dish washers while Tony laughed.

* * *

As he, Steve, and the rest of the Howlies stood on their ledge in the middle of the Austrian Alps, Bucky tried not to look down. Heights didn’t bother him too much, but it was a long, long way down. He reminded himself that they were going after Zola this time and that – monster – needed to be taken out of circulation. The intel they’d get from that little worm would help them put the final nail in Hydra’s coffin. He needed to put his personal feelings about the ‘doctor’ aside.

The memory of the last night he’d seen Tony flashed back through Bucky’s mind as he stared across the vast stretch of alpine valley. That he’d sworn at Tony and hadn’t had time to apologize later. Bucky’s head told him the line would hold – they’d practiced it enough – and he could tell Tony when they got back to base. Bucky’s (unhelpful) heart kept reminding him, though, that he also had never told Tony that sometime over the last year he’d fallen hard for him. Bucky couldn’t put a finger on exactly when it had happened, but now all his plans for the future had a place for Tony too.

Bucky caught Steve looking at him. His expression was harder to read these days – probably because they’d all seen so much and because so much was riding on their success. Maybe if they’d been alone, Bucky might’ve told Steve what was on his mind, but they weren’t. “Remember that time I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”

Steve looked down across the valley and made a face, “Yeah, and I threw up?”

“This wouldn’t be payback, would it?”

“Now why would I do that?” Steve asked, amusement in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry-not-sorry about the chapter title..... <.<


	6. I Only Have Ice for You

"It's hard being left behind. (...) It's hard to be the one who stays."  
**— Audrey Niffenegger _The Time Traveler's Wife_**

“Please, Peggy – Agent Carter – I haven’t asked for anything. Walked the straight and narrow, toed the line. I’ve worked night and day for this operation and this is all I’m asking.” Tony’s throat felt like it was closing up. “He’s not –” his voice cracked, “he’s not dead. I _know_ he’s alive out there. Let me go find him.”

Peggy blinked back tears of her own. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith. We can’t spare the resources for a team.”

“Your man Phillips is busy making deals with the monster that tortured Barnes and god knows how many others and you can’t spare the resources? One car and a sled. That’s all I’m asking for.” Tony hated himself for lashing out at her. None of this was Peggy’s fault. Or Steve’s – no matter how much Tony wished he could lay all the blame at the Captain’s feet.

Clearing her throat and brushing at her cheeks, Peggy nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Tony.”

When Peggy was gone, Tony collapsed into a chair and covered his face with his hands. The time machine he and Howard had built was ready – had been ready for almost two months now. They’d been able to adapt the power source from one of the mechanized suits some of the Hydra guards wore and that had been the final piece they’d needed.

He hadn’t exactly been able to tell Bucky, though. The project was classified… and if they never got it to work, there was no need to say anything. It’d just be a source of anxiety. One thing Tony was sure of was that Bucky didn’t need more stress in his life. And he hadn’t quite made up his mind yet about whether he’d go back or not. He _should_ go back home, Tony knew that… but he _hadn’t_. Yet.

But Tony’d be damned if he left Bucky out in the mountains until the Soviets and Zola got to him. No way. He’d made up his mind to rig up some snowshoes if he needed to. He was a civilian who didn’t even technically exist right now. What could they do to him if he just left?

Tony looked up at the sound of someone coming in.

Steve shouldered his way in and tried to look Tony in the eyes and couldn’t. “I heard… Peggy said…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a few breaths and tried again. “Peggy said you’re going to bring Bucky back?”

“That’s the idea, yeah.” Tony said. He knew that he’d just sound like a distraught lover if he told Steve that he was sure Bucky was alive. Tony didn’t know whether Peggy had told anyone other than Howard that he was from the future.

Nodding to himself, the corners of his mouth pulled down with grief, Steve managed to say, “Good. His family deserves that. _He_ deserves it. I can’t stand the thought of him out there in the snow, you know?” Steve’s voice cracked.

Tony stood and crossed the room and wrapped Steve in a hug. For everything that had happened over the years he’d known Steve… in his time and now, he’d never seen Steve cry. It broke Tony’s heart. “It’s okay, Steve. I’ll bring him back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Steve made a horrible noise that Tony thought was supposed to be a laugh and stepped back, wiping his eyes. “All right, Smith. You do your part, I’ll do mine. We’ll end this and make sure he gets home.”

“Deal.”

That night, Howard had flown Tony into Greece where Peggy had arranged for a jeep and the sled he’d asked for along with some supplies including extra gas that he hadn’t. The drive into Austria was the longest twenty hours of Tony’s life. He gritted his teeth and hoped to hell that he wouldn’t run into any Nazi – or Soviet – patrols.

He managed to find the place where the Howlies had staged their offensive. Now, of course, the trick was to figure out where Bucky fell and then to get to him. _You’ve shunted a nuclear missile into space, Stark. This’ll be easy._

Pep talks aside, it was _not_ easy – not at all. He’d had to bribe a mountain herder to take him down a treacherous path with donkeys. The man agreed, though that if Tony came back, he’d guide him back up the mountain again. The muscles in his arms and back ached and burned more than his legs, but the urgency of his task helped him put aside his physical discomforts.

He spent the night in the valley in a crevice between several large boulders, which wasn’t warm at all, but was out of the wind that tore through the valley like icy, invisible knives. Early the next morning, Tony pulled himself up and struggled to move. The snow wasn’t that deep – only calf-high – but his whole body ached and his muscles protested every step of the way.

As the shadows started to stretch in the afternoon, Tony worried he’d never find Bucky in all the snow and rocks. Not before the Soviets anyway. He sat down to eat something – the terrible food didn’t improve his morale, but Tony was too tired to care much about what he was eating.

In frustration, he threw one of the cans against the rocks nearby, the sound echoing up and down the valley. “That was stupid. Go pick it up, dumbass,” Tony muttered to himself.

Walking toward where the can had bounced off to, he noticed the snow had a different texture, with an icy crust on top where the snow around it had a more powdery texture. Tony wouldn’t be able later to say with any certainty what had made him reach down to poke at the snow just there, but a few inches under the snow, he found fabric.

Instantly, Tony was on his hands and knees scooping the snow aside with poorly insulated wool gloves his only protection from the cold and sharp stones mixed with the snow. Bucky was so cold and pale that Tony thought he might be too late. And goddamn all those buttons. Tony worked as fast as his half-frozen fingers would go, unbuttoning, so he could listen for a heartbeat.

Yes! Tony let out a sob of relief, then set to work tying a tourniquet for Bucky’s left arm up near the shoulder. It was present, but obviously not okay. At present, there wasn’t much bleeding, but Tony doubted it’d stay that way once they were moving. “Hang on, sweetheart. I’m getting you out of here.”

Tony carefully felt Bucky’s skull for breaks and didn’t find anything obvious. There was no neck brace in World War 2 evac medic field supplies, so he did his best to shore up Bucky’s neck with the canvas from the tent in his pack of supplies. There was enough fabric to cover him up too.

Wasting no more time, Tony stood and maneuvered Bucky onto the sled, strapped him down carefully, and then started to pull the sled. He pushed himself relentlessly, though the going was slower than he’d anticipated. By midday the following day, though, he’d made it back to the red flag he’d planted at the foot of the mountain path, waving it with most of his remaining strength. He couldn’t see well enough to tell if the man with the donkeys would see him or not.

Exhausted, Tony had no idea how much time passed, but the man with the donkeys was there, speaking to him kindly in his accented German. Together, they were able to lash Bucky to one of the animals as there was no way the sled would make it up the narrow path carrying a load that needed to be treated with care. When they reached the top, Tony pressed the remote tracking device Howard had given him to call for retrieval. Then he made sure that Bucky was warming up in the man’s modest cabin, ate, then collapsed into a dreamless sleep.

He’d pushed himself so hard that when he woke, Tony had no idea where he was until he saw Dum Dum Dugan sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to him. “Where?” he managed to croak.

Dugan sat up, “Hey, you’re awake. Have a good nap, princess?” Dugan’s tone of voice was his usual kidding around, but fatigue dragged at all of his features.

“What happened? Where?” Tony tried again and struggled to sit up.

“Calm down, you’re not going anywhere. Stark and I came to get you. We let the guy who helped you keep the rations you didn’t use on the trip. The jeep too, but don’t tell anybody,” Dugan said.

Tony was glad the guy with the donkeys got more compensation, but that still didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. “Bucky?”

Dugan held a glass of water to Tony’s lips and Tony drank gratefully. “He’s still unconscious, but alive.”

“Cap?” Tony asked. If Bucky was all right, maybe Steve was okay too.

The tendons in the Irishman’s jaw tightened and Dugan shook his head. Clearing his throat, he said, “Cap didn’t make it.”

Voice sounding like he’d gargled with gravel, Tony said, “I told him not to do anything stupid.”

With the saddest laugh Tony had ever heard, Dugan said, “When did the Captain ever do something the easy way?”

Tony closed his eyes and ignored both his sniffling and Dugan’s.

* * *

When the very nice, but frustratingly strict nurses finally let Tony get out of bed, he tried to go see Bucky, but saw that Peggy was already with him, blotting his forehead with a damp cloth. He could see she was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear what she said. From the looks of it, Bucky was either still unconscious or asleep.

 _I’ll come back tomorrow_ , Tony thought to himself. Only the doctors had the gall to discharge him and send him back to their base and, deemed fit to work, he had a lot to catch up on. It was two weeks before he was able to get back to the hospital.

Fresh flower stalls were not plentiful in wartime Britain, so he paid a woman in both American money and a packet of cigarettes he’d saved from one of his meals to dig up one of her pink primroses and put it in a pot for him. The effect wasn’t as stunning as a Sunshine Day Bouquet from a florist, but it was cheerful enough.

He was feeling more positive now. And by the time Tony got to the hospital he was feeling positively optimistic, waving hello to the nurses at the admissions desk on his way to Bucky’s floor. When he got to Bucky’s ward, he stopped dead in his tracks. Peggy was there at Bucky’s bedside again, holding his good hand and chatting. Huh.

Tony turned to the head nurse of the ward, who was sitting at her desk, cap pinned in place, just so. “Say, I brought this for Sergeant Barnes… is it alright if I leave it here? I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Shall I leave a name?” she asked, smiling blandly.

“Uh, yeah. Say it’s from Smith – Tony Smith.”

The nurse glanced up at him. “Oh, Mr. Smith…” she rifled through the papers on her desk, “Ah! Here it is… Oh…” She frowned and looked up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, but the patient asked not to see you.”

If he hadn’t already set the pot down, Tony would’ve been in danger of dropping it. “What?”

“See for yourself,” the nurse pushed a notecard across the desk to Tony.

Sure enough, in a nurse’s careful script was a note that Sergeant Barnes asked that if a Mr. Tony Smith came to visit that he not be admitted. No explanation.

Tony could see the nurse in charge was waiting for a response and he handed the card back. “I see. Well, I don’t want to be a nuisance. If there’s someone here in the ward who doesn’t have visitors, please give these to him instead.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the nurse apologized again.

“No, no, it’s not your fault. I’ll just go then.” Tony could feel his face either blushing with embarrassment or going pale – he wasn’t sure which – and he just wanted to get out before his face totally gave him away. “Thanks for the help.”

Patting the desk once, Tony turned on his heel and walked woodenly out of the hospital again. Numb. Just nothing. That’s all he let himself feel. _Well. Nothing’s keeping me here now_ , Tony thought to himself.

Over the next few days, Tony finished the projects he’d been helping Howard with, rechecked the few vehicles still under his care, and made arrangements for those to be cared for after he left. He went through the motions of life: eating at mealtimes, closing his eyes when the rest of the world slept. Since he didn’t know when Bucky would leave the hospital and whether he’d be able to care for a dog at that time, Tony decided to take Duke with him.

As he packed, Tony found the foil star Bucky had given him as a belated Christmas gift – more than a year ago now. The heaviness of grief settled on Tony’s shoulders, making all his movements feel sluggish. He managed to pack the rucksack he’d found his first day in France, though.

When Tony got to Howard’s workspace, he found his father had fired up the machine and it sat thrumming with energy as its lights pulsed from blue to green and back again. Stark poured a drink for each of them. “Hope you’re not so much of a teetotaler to not share a drink. Brought out the good stuff.”

“Just a splash,” Tony agreed and hoped it wouldn’t bite him in the ass later.

Tony was surprised when Howard actually listened to him, pouring not even a full shot in the bottom of the glass. Howard turned the corners of his mouth up a bit, but it couldn’t be called a smile. “To the future. Good luck, Smith.”

“To the future.”

They drank and Tony set down his glass and offered a handshake. Howard pulled him into a half-hug, then stepped back. “I mean it. Take care of yourself, Tony. And that dumb dog, too.”

“Thanks for everything Howard. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tony tried to sound casual – like he’d be seeing him again – and wasn’t that a kicker, that he’d miss Howard Stark.

“Better grab the mutt and get in before I change my mind and decide to keep you for R&D at Stark Industries,” Howard said too brightly.

Unwilling to prolong the good-byes, Tony scooped up Duke, who did not particularly care for being held and immediately started to wriggle and flail his doggy limbs, trying to twist away from this betrayal. He walked into the machine’s field of light.

Howard started turning the dials. “God speed, Tony.”

There was an awful sound and the lights flashed so brightly that Tony could see patterns on his eyelids. He managed to hold onto Duke at least.

And opened his eyes to find himself in the central courtyard of the Avengers Compound.

* * *

Bucky watched the rain spitter spatter on his window. His mother had wanted him to come live at home. He’d lost a lot during the war, but not his desire to be independent. Tony had gone home, back to where he’d come from. At least Howard Stark _thought_ so.

Something had gone wrong with the machine after sending so much through. The way Stark explained it, the tests he and Tony had conducted were all on much smaller things – a lot less mass. The vacuum tubes had overheated and fried other components. The worst part, according to Stark, was that the machine that fed the punch cards had caught on fire, destroying them.

When he got back to the states, Bucky went back to school, ignoring the strong suggestions of some of the administrators that he should give his place to ‘someone who’d be able to do something with a degree.’ Right now, it felt like having something to do, somewhere he needed to show up was important. Otherwise… well, he didn’t know what. Brooklyn in summer was a hot, sticky horror-show where the beds were too soft and the people went about their business as if Steve hadn’t been one of their own.

Sometimes he still expected to see Tony in his kitchen or next to him in bed. He’d used losing his arm as an excuse to keep Tony from visiting because there was no way he could’ve kept his feelings under wraps under those circumstances. When he woke up in the hospital, Peggy had told him how Tony had insisted on going back for him. How could he have pretended Tony was just a friend after that?

Before that, the last thing he remembered was landing on the train with Steve and Gabe… then being cold. Nothing else until waking up in the hospital. There was no question in Bucky’s mind that Tony had saved his life. At the time, thinking about Tony visiting, but not be able to have Tony’s arms around him had seemed untenable. Now, Bucky felt stupid. He’d been so stupid, and Tony was gone for good – maybe killed in whatever had gone wrong with that machine.

Bucky had no idea exactly _when_ Tony was from either and had no way to know whether or not he arrived safely. Tears filled his eyes again and his chest ached. He had no idea how he could feel simultaneously full to bursting with hurting and so empty.

Turning his attention back on his textbook, Bucky forced himself to concentrate on the numbers and pushed the pencil on the notebook paper in front of him. He’d only done a few of the set that was due tomorrow when there was a knock on the door.

From the other side of the door, a muffled woman’s voice called, “Mr. Barnes? It’s Dottie Underwood from down the hall? You’ve got a call on the party line.”

Bucky got up and picked up his phone. “Thanks Dot, I got it.” Bucky waited to hear the click of the other receiver being hung up before he said, “H’lo? This is Barnes.”

“Bucky! Good to hear you, pal! Say, I’m in town and I got a proposal for you. Y’know – if you’re interested.”

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Tell you what,” the man on the other end of the line continued, oblivious to Bucky’s silence, “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes. I’m in the neighborhood.”

Bucky almost told the guy off, but what else did he have to do? An hour or so of math and some reading for school? “Yeah, all right. See you in ten. I’ll meet you outside.”

After hanging up, he tucked in his shirt and washed his face and neck. He combed his hair and generally made sure he was presentable enough for company. Then Bucky grabbed his wallet and cigarette case before locking up and going outside.

On the front steps of his apartment building, Bucky lit a cigarette for himself and waited. He didn’t have to wait long. A sleek new pale yellow Lincoln Continental convertible pulled up to the curb in front of him.

Howard Stark grinned at him, “Hop in. We need to talk.”

Clamping his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Bucky vaulted over the door into the passenger seat. “How the Hell are ya, Stark? Thought you sounded familiar on the phone.”

Stark pulled away with a screech of tires, sending a few housewives with baby buggies scattering for the sidewalk. “You got time for lunch?”

“It’s four in the afternoon…”

Stark waved his hand, “Stickler for protocol, huh? Live a little – world, oyster, et cetera.”

Bucky laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. “I got time and yeah, I could eat.”

A few minutes later, Bucky found himself being frowned at by a waiter in a restaurant with red leather booths that smelled like cigars and steaks. After they ordered, Howard leaned forward, and his face became serious. “Listen Barnes, I’ve got reason to think you’re in a hell of a lot of danger,” Stark said, keeping his voice low.

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky whispered back. “Nobody wants anything to do with a one-armed vet.”

“But you’re not any guy with one arm, you’re Bucky Barnes of the 107th Infantry… the guy who fell off the side of a mountain and lived. You ever think about why?” Howard tapped the table for emphasis.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “’Cause T-… Smith came and found me.”

“True, but not what I’m going for here,” Stark’s voice rose for an instant before he glanced around again and whispered, “You realize you fell two thousand feet, give or take? That’s generally not a survivable fall, pal.”

Bucky’s hand shook when he lit his cigarette. He was grateful that Stark didn’t offer to help him, though. Examining the fall hadn't really felt necessary. Bucky had more than he wanted already with the nightmares that still woke him up at night in a cold sweat... but what Stark said made sense. After a deep drag, he exhaled. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Over the course of their ‘lunch,’ Howard explained in hushed tones that he thought that Zola’s experiments had been to recreate Erskine’s serum and that there were people who’d stop at nothing to get samples of a super soldier’s blood. Bucky’s skin crawled when Stark said that the prospect of a ‘live specimen’ was worth even more.

The ashtray at their table was full by the time they left, heading straight to a piece of property purchased by one A. Frankel well away from the city. The property itself was underwhelming: a lot of shrubs and trees. It looked scrubby and unused to Bucky. Farther in, though, there was an old house that looked like it’d been abandoned long before his parents came over to the U.S.

His skepticism must’ve shown on his face because Stark waved him forward. “Come on, Barnes. We don’t have all day.”

In the basement, Howard moved a dusty shelf out of the way, counted bricks and pressed three at the same time. The rest of the bricks pulled away from the center, forming a doorway. “I’d set this up in my mansion, but I had a break-in. It’s not in the news yet, but it will be. Only you and I know about this place and it’s gonna stay that way.”

Inside the secret room, Bucky saw the whole room was lit with an unearthly blue glow and equipment lined the walls. “What’s all this?”

“This,” Howard said with a grand gesture, “is a cryo-chamber and all the guts it needs to keep running indefinitely. I plan to do some development up top eventually. I’ll bring in regular electricity then to make sure there’s a backup power source.”

Bucky frowned and stared at a rather ominous tube-shaped contraption in one corner. “And what does it do?”

Howard rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, it’d freeze you so that somebody can wake you up later. Farther into the future.”

Bucky brought his arm over his chest, tucking his hand under the stump of his left arm. “You want to freeze me? So ‘somebody’ can thaw me out in the future.”

“Yes?”

“ _That’s_ your big plan to keep me safe from spies and Hydra wannabes?” Bucky asked, incredulous.

Stark nodded, “That… ah… Yes. That’s the plan.”

“And you thought this was a good idea, why, exactly?”

“I… just thought that things must be better in Smith’s time… the guy’s brilliant – and time travel! Can you believe it? I labeled the wake-up buttons ‘1, 2, and 3,’ so anybody would be able to get it right. You know, in case I’m not around,” Stark explained.

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky asked.

Without hesitation, Stark said, “Because I lost two friends to the war… and I want to keep their friend safe.”

Bucky pursed his lips in thought. “All right. I’m trusting you, Stark.”

“I won’t let you down,” Stark promised.

* * *

**September 2011**

Phil Coulson pursed his lips and frowned at the stack of file boxes left to go through compared to the stack he’d already looked at. _Four down, eighty-five left to go_ , he thought to himself and sighed. Rationally, he knew that not every day at SHIELD was securing alien artifacts or showdowns with their ancient gods of myth owners. Still, sifting through Howard Stark’s archived SHIELD papers was not his cup of tea. He strongly preferred the boots on the ground approach.

Glancing at the empty pot on his new (and inexpensive) Mr. Coffee coffeemaker, Phil decided there was no use putting things off. He stood, stretched, and rubbed his lower back before filling the pitcher with more water. After starting another pot of coffee, he opened the next box. This one dated back to the mid-60s.

 _Great, more mid-life crisis Howard Stark._ To Phil’s relief, though, the contents had nothing to do with Stark’s personal life. These documents were related to building storage facilities in upstate New York. Hm… Stark Industries bought the land from a Hungarian immigrant… nothing strange about that. Sadly, it also wasn’t odd that SI documents had gotten mixed up with Stark’s work at SHIELD either. That was part of the reason these hadn’t been digitized yet.

Phil didn’t particularly care one way or the other whether these were real storage sheds or pool cabanas for Stark’s ‘companions,’ but he was paid to be suspicious, so he read through the building plans and permits.

What were the buildings supposed to be _for?_ From the plans, they were clearly storage facilities – nothing scandalous. What had SI needed all that storage for that was so difficult to access? Toxic waste? The sheds didn’t seem right for that – unless Stark had really been cutting corners under the table.

Phil’s next step was to research all the planned and on-going projects SI had been working on at the time. Nothing unusual had been mothballed. He checked Google Earth to get a quick aerial view. There they were – large, white storage buildings nestled among rolling hills and woods.

He studied the stacks of boxes – down to just eighty-eight now – then back at the plans on the worktable. It was probably nothing. Most likely Howard Stark had been just a rich guy not wanting to throw something away when he could just store it somewhere out of the way. But… it might be worth a call to the new Stark Industries CEO and a quick field trip just to make sure all the T’s were crossed, and I’s dotted. It had nothing whatsoever to do with wanting to get outside, away from the desk.

Phil poured his coffee into a stainless-steel cup with black base and lid and took the elevator out of the basement and went outside to stretch his legs and make his phone call.

“Hello, Ms. Potts? Yes, hello. I’m Agent Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It’s been a while… No, Mr. Stark isn’t in any trouble,” Phil laughed politely.

“Stark Industries has a property outside Utica, New York and I was wondering if it would be possible to have a look around,” he explained.

Phil listened to Ms. Potts and replied, “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll send you the forms that need to be signed before anyone goes on-site and I could just let you know if there’s any issues accessing the property. No, we’re just going through our archives and following up on any leads that weren’t pursued before. All of this is well before your or Mr. Stark’s time, so I don’t anticipate this creating any issues for you or the company. As you know, we prefer discretion. Thank you, Ms. Potts. I look forward to talking with you again.”

Capable, intelligent, honest, and loyal were the words that Phil jotted down to describe Pepper Potts when he wrote out his notes about their conversation.

Several days (and six more boxes) later and the documents proving right to access folded in his suit coat pocket, Phil pulled up outside the chain link fence that surrounded the property in question. Tall grass and wildflowers grew along the fence line and though the razor wire on top was newer, it bore the signs of scheduled maintenance, rather than a place that was regularly visited.

He buzzed the code that Ms. Potts had given him and retrieved a key ring of all the keys she hadn’t been able to find a use for in her history with Tony Stark. She’d met him for coffee yesterday and had sighed, “These are Tony’s mystery keys. He doesn’t know what any of them open and they don’t open anything in Stark Tower, his Malibu home, or any of his vacation properties.”

“You’ve been busy,” Phil had remarked.

“It was my job for a long time, Phil,” Pepper had said firmly.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

She’d smiled then, “Please, call me Pepper. We can get coffee again when you’re finished with them?”

So, he had the keys and a not-quite date, which put a bit of a spring in his step as he walked through the gate. Not so much so that he forgot to wear his radiation badge and bring the hand-held equipment to check for airborne toxic gasses and heavy metals.

Finally putting his face mask on, Phil looked around as he moved toward the first building. The roofs had been kept in good repair, the buildings’ exteriors also seemed to be in good shape. They’d been maintained, but there was no foot or vehicle traffic evident. Definitely nothing on a frequent basis anyway.

He tried the keys on the first door and was somewhat surprised to find one that fit. He took that one off the keyring to keep it separate from the others. Inside, the building was full of racks of shelves and wooden storage crates. Phil took photos of everything. He could cross-reference them with known Stark-led SHIELD initiatives later.

The next building he glanced in – more of the same. The sun was getting low, so Phil decided to just look quickly at the other buildings and return early the next morning to get the particulars. They were all the same except for one that held Stark’s flying car from the 1943 World Exposition of Tomorrow. She stood alone in the center of that building, a canvas cover keeping her dust-free.

He walked circles around her, taking in the shine of red paint and chrome. The white wall tires were _perfect_. Just gorgeous. Phil knew no one else was there. And other than a single security camera at the gate, no cameras were present either. Even so, he glanced around before opening the door and getting behind the wheel of the car. It couldn’t hurt anything.

“Wow, this is great,” he murmured to himself, touching the steering wheel lightly with his fingertips. “You are really beautiful.”

He sat in the car for longer than he cared to admit, and he’d categorically deny that he was imagining swooshing through the clouds in it. When he got out, he wiped his fingerprints from the steering wheel and door handle – more to keep the finishes pristine, rather than to remove traces of his having been there.

Phil started toward the door, but curiosity won out and he turned back again to get a look at the under-carriage. Just to see if he could find the mechanism to see how it worked. That was when he noticed the panel under the car. Probably just a hydraulic lift or a hatch for mechanics. …Still, there weren’t any switches in the room to operate a big piece of machinery like that. Or nothing obvious. So, what was it?

Twenty minutes later, sitting in his own car again after making sure everything was locked up again, Phil noticed the large powerline structures that went along behind the property. He drove, following them all the way to the closest power station. They didn’t go past the Stark facility, though… there were just regular utility poles after the SI property.

_Hm._

Two weeks and many phone calls later, he stood with a small group of SHIELD agents and Tony Stark to move the car and gain access to whatever was below the building floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm slowwwwwwww 🐢🐢🐢🐌🐌🐌 this chapter hasn't been beta-ed yet. I read through several times, but at the moment, any mistakes here are my own.


	7. Cold Light of Day and Lonely Old Nights

“Being with you and not being with you is the only way I have to measure time.”  
**― Jorge Luis Borges**

When Bucky woke, he found himself not in a science fiction movie basement lab, but a comfortable, tidy, _new_ bedroom. As if he’d ever have been able to afford that. His arm was still gone, so at least no one had tried to stitch him a new one like Frankenstein.

Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face. The real question was who’d found him – the good guys or the bad ones. Listening to a ball game from… before he’d shipped out, it was hard to tell and it did nothing to reduce his building anxiety.

He looked at what he was wearing. It looked like someone had very carefully chosen clothes that he might’ve worn, but knew he’d never owned. Fighting back the unnerving sensation of being watched, Bucky stood up and decided to try the door.

A pretty enough woman practically opened the door into him and stepped into the room. She was in uniform, but _why?_ What’d the Army want with him? And were WACs still a thing now that the war was over? “Who the hell are you?”

His suspicions deepened when woman’s face didn’t flinch as if offended or tighten as though she was about to assert her authority. She opened her mouth of nearly luminously white, sinisterly perfect teeth to speak when a man wearing sunglasses, blue jeans, and a blazer shouldered his way in past her.

“Hey Frosty, glad to see you’re awake. My guy’s outside waiting in the car. I’m springing you out of here. Come on.”

Realization hit Bucky like a ton of bricks. “You’re Tony – ”

“Stark, that’s right.” Tony _Stark_ smiled at the woman in uniform, who was still smiling despite the disruption. It was so artificial, it sent shivers down Bucky’s spine. “See, even the guy who’s been frozen for sixty-ish years knows who I am.”

“You can’t just take him without authorization,” the woman, still smiling, tried to put her foot down.

“I can do whatever I want because your boss wants me to build Barnesy a new arm. I’ve got a prototype put together, but it’ll never be right if he can’t test it on site. _My_ site. Did you have something else? No? Great. Barnes, you’re with me.”

Well, Bucky definitely wasn’t going to stay in whatever fresh hell he’d woken up in, that was for sure. He’d take his chances with Tony …Stark. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph… had Howard _known?_ He followed Tony, matching his brisk pace and ignoring everyone else who tried to talk to him.

When someone grabbed his wrist to stop him, though, Bucky turned and headbutted him and heard the guy’s nose crunch as it broke. The grip on his arm loosened, Bucky swung and clipped the guard on the jaw. The guard did a pirouette and slumped to the ground.

Bucky backed away in the direction Tony had been going until he felt a hand on his bad shoulder. “It’s me, Slugger. Come on. We’re just out here,” Tony said, guiding him the rest of the way to the door.

For the next few seconds, Bucky hoped that it had been a signal, that Tony would drop the façade of not knowing him once they were in the car. That hope was crushed not long after the car door closed and Tony took out a rectangle of some sort and started tapping on it, completely ignoring him.

“…Is that a cellphone?” Bucky asked. It looked a little bit like the device Tony ‘Smith’ had said was a cellphone, with a camera and everything – just larger.

“No. It’s a tablet.” Stark – he wasn’t _Tony_ – squinted at Bucky. “I thought they kept you in isolation. How’d you know about cellphones?”

“I know a few things… I was frozen, not dead,” Bucky muttered with more conviction than he felt. He didn’t know a goddamn thing.

At least Stark laughed.

And Stark had built Bucky an arm that was similar in design to the armor Stark wore as Iron Man, but it had a finer range of motion. Once Bucky had the arm, though, and Stark was satisfied that it worked and couldn’t be improved on without extensive testing, he sent Bucky back to SHIELD.

They’d given him a shield like Steve’s and called him Captain America. Bucky just felt like a fraud. Thanks to the internet, he now knew that was called imposter syndrome. _Thanks, Google._

He was having a particularly bad day when the answered the knock at the door of his room. The man had a SHIELD emblem on his lapel and wore a crisp navy-blue suit. “Hi, I’m Agent Phil Coulson… I was on the team that recovered you from the Stark Industries facility.”

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he thought the agent might be blushing. _What the hell was this?_ He offered to shake hands anyway. “Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you.”

There was a gleam in Agent Coulson’s eyes that Bucky felt unsure about and he took a step back, which gave Coulson the space to come in. “I just want to say I’m a really big fan. I’ve got all your original trading cards – part of the Howling Commandos set from the 1940s and 50s? They’re vintage – near mint! I was wondering if you’d sign them for me?”

“Uh…” Bucky sincerely hoped that Coulson wouldn’t be disappointed, but he still felt weird about being famous – even if it wasn’t known outside of SHIELD that he existed yet. “Are you sure?”

Agent Coulson retrieved three trading cards from his suitcoat pocket and handed them to Bucky. “Absolutely.”

Bucky shrugged. “All right, if you’re sure…. Who should I make ‘em out to?”

“Phil. You can make them out to Phil.” Coulson cleared his throat and looked so thrilled that Bucky was worried he might bust a button or something.

On the first card, where he’d been pictured wearing some kind of blue and red getup, Bucky wrote, ‘To Phil – My first autograph. Bucky Barnes.’ The second was a line drawing that Bucky could’ve sworn Steve had drawn of him during one of their brief leave periods. On that one, he wrote, ‘To Phil – You made my day. Bucky.’ The last wasn’t a card of him at all – it was a Captain America trading card.

“This one’s not me,” he said, holding up the card.

Coulson – Phil – looked thoughtful and a little sad. “…I thought maybe if we found you after all these years, it wasn’t so far-fetched that maybe Captain Rogers is alive somewhere too.” Phil sounded so wistful that Bucky felt bad for him.

Quickly, Bucky signed the Captain America card too: ‘For Phil – Thanks for believing. Bucky Barnes.’ He handed all three cards back to Phil along with the pen that he noticed was labeled ‘acid-free’ whatever that meant.

“Say, you want to have a coffee or something? I got nowhere I need to be right now,” Bucky offered. “Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor – I’m going stir-crazy here.”

Since then, he and Phil had become friends and the agent came to check on Bucky from time to time. Not in any kind of official capacity, but just as a friend. Bucky had given Phil a signed set of the newly re-released Howling Commandos cards in the framed display case for his birthday. His chats with Phil were one of the high points of these past few years.

In the meantime, he’d fought aliens, had a beer with a god, fought a sentient robot, and welcomed an android as a new friend. …And he’d seen Steve. _God, what had Hydra done to him?_

Stark now knew of course, that Steve was the Winter Soldier, but Bucky wasn’t sure if Tony knew the rest of the crushing truth – that Steve had killed Howard and Maria Stark. Bucky had tried to get Stark’s attention in order to tell him, but with their conflicting schedules and responsibilities, it had been hard to find opportunities to speak to the billionaire genius. The few times their schedules had aligned, Stark had begged off for one reason or another. For the past few months, Stark had been in South Korea working on a project there, according to Pepper. The time difference didn’t bother Bucky – he was usually awake anyway… but this wasn’t something you should tell someone over the phone. Like texting to breakup with someone, it would be a shitty thing to do.

Needless to say, it’d been a long, long time since Bucky had a good night’s sleep. He had no idea where Steve – the Winter Soldier – was …and all too much knowledge about what Hydra had done to him. By itself, that would have been bad enough, but Howard had been a good friend to all of them and knowing he’d died at Steve’s hands… sent Bucky to the gym or the firing range more than once.

Other nights, like tonight, he wandered around the Compound, walking the halls or the perimeter outside. Memories followed along, whispering at the back of his mind. Tonight, Bucky walked to the common area, just to be out of his small apartment. He decided to fix some real hot chocolate with milk and chocolate – not the powder mix that Clint liked.

Of course, hot cocoa reminded him of the night he met Tony all those years ago. In the last year or so, Natasha had tried to set him up with a number of people, but it was hard to get over someone when you saw someone almost just like them all the time.

Thank God he’d kept the copy of the photo Gabe Jones had taken of Tony wearing all their rifles in his wallet sewn between the layers of leather. SHIELD hadn’t found it there or they would’ve asked him about it. They asked about plenty of other things. Having the photo helped prove that Tony had really been there – that Bucky hadn’t just imagined it all.

Even now, more than four years after meeting Stark, Bucky was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Tony was Tony Stark and that meant fame, money, and skads of beautiful people all vying for a piece of it. _What had Tony seen in him?_

He pulled the post-it note with Sharon Carter’s phone number off the fridge where Natasha had helpfully left it for him and considered about calling. Bucky had thought about it yesterday too, but his heart wasn’t really in it – then or now. Setting the note on the counter, he started heating the milk so the chocolate would melt. Maybe tonight he’d get around to trying to make it with a little cinnamon, the way Sam Wilson said his mother made it.

Hearing a dog bark wasn’t that unusual either. Clint brought Lucky over sometimes. Dogs bark – no big deal. Bucky stirred the milk so he wouldn’t get the skin on top or the weird white residue on the bottom of the pan and wondered if his goal was to fall asleep or to stay awake.

Bare feet slapping on the hallway tile, apparently in pursuit of the dog also was not unusual. Where there was one, the other followed. Like the laws of physics.

What he didn’t expect was for a furry blur to launch itself at him. Bucky lost his balance, hitting the handle of the pan as he did so. Warm milk flew in an arc over his head as Bucky was knocked to the ground by the wiry, wiggling, canine body that stood over him yipping, whining, and licking Bucky’s face.

Bucky tried to push the dog away, but the dog kept ducking his head under Bucky’s arms, avoiding the brush off. The dog wasn’t Lucky – not even if Clint gave him an unfortunate haircut. The short, wiry coat reminded him of another dog. “Duke?” Bucky asked aloud.

The dog yapped joyously and danced in circles on Bucky’s chest, trampling him with very knobby-feeling feet.

“Ow! Knock that off!” Bucky laughed and pushed the dog aside so he could sit up to turn off the burner on the stove. He ruffled the dog’s ears. “Where’d you come from?” Bucky couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that the dog here really was Duke. It was more likely that it was just another stray mutt Clint had brought home.

* * *

The light from the machine had been so bright that Tony still saw spots even now a few minutes later. The good news: he’d made it back to the Avengers Compound; the bad news: that it was winter, so he’d overshot his date of departure by a few months. Hopefully, that hadn’t caused too many problems for Pepper or the Avengers.

Sighing, Tony walked back from the courtyard to his apartment. Duke ran ahead of him, nosing the snow-covered lawn outside. The dog immediately started sniffing (and marking) his new surroundings.

Once they were inside, Tony got a bowl for Duke’s water and said, “Hey, Fri, I’m home.”

“Welcome back, Boss,” the AI’s voice replied, sounding relieved. “Shall I contact Ms. Potts for you?”

“Yeah, please. My phone’s toast,” Tony said, scrubbing his hands over his face and feeling vaguely grimy in the polished contemporary style surroundings.

Moments later, Pepper’s worried voice came through the apartment’s built-in speakers and holoprojector, “Tony? Oh my god – thank god! Are you all right?”

Bereft and broken-hearted, but in the scheme of Tony Stark disasters, he supposed he was doing okay. “Yeah, another year older, but I’m okay.” Tony took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Everything okay? Any emergencies I need to deal with?”

“A year?” Pepper took a deep breath to calm herself and wiped her eyes. “I told R&D that you were on sabbatical and they’ve been working on the projects you left them with. I told the Avengers that you were working on ‘a project’ in Seoul. I wasn’t specific and they didn’t ask.”

Tony wasn’t sure how he felt about not being as essential as he’d thought, but he smiled anyway. “I’m going to take a day or two, catch up with everything that’s happened while I was gone, and then get back to work.”

“Tony, you don’t really need to do that. If you need time to recover…” Pepper said, concern written all over her face.

“It was fine. I’m fine. I’m ready to get back to work,” he lied. Tony needed the work to keep his mind off of being dumped. _Had he been dumped?_ It felt like it… but maybe he’d overreacted.

His reassurances didn’t look like they’d swayed Pepper much at all. “Tony…”

“I promise if I need more time, I’ll take more time. I’d just like to get back to normal as soon as possible,” Tony put more effort into trying to sound reassuring.

Pepper pressed her lips together and then relented, “All right. Promise me you’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I promise. And Rhodey’s my next call.”

“I’m glad you’re back Tony,” Pepper said with a smile before disconnecting.

Making sure he remembered the dog food, Tony ordered groceries, mentally thanking whoever had his refrigerator cleaned out. After his call to Rhodey, Tony decided that he’d shower and put on something comfortable, then go see what was in the team kitchen to eat. There were probably at least a few graham crackers or something.

The kiss of hot water on his skin felt so luxurious that Tony had a hard time believing that he’d ever taken it for granted. Being able to shower without having a dozen guys also showering in close proximity also felt like a novelty. He felt a twinge of guilt over the high-end shampoo and body wash and thought about how he’d agonized over how to spend his limited funds at the PX store and deciding Ivory soap was worth the price.

With a pang, Tony remembered sitting next to Bucky in the mess hall a little over a month ago smelling that same scent on him. As he dried off, Tony thought through his failed hospital visit again. Now, in the quiet of his apartment, he was more certain that he’d probably overreacted. Bucky wouldn’t have risked being discovered the handful of times they were able to have a few minutes to themselves just to break everything off after something like that – would he? There had only been a couple of stolen kisses and touches that hardly counted – the toes of their boots touching, sitting a little bit too close together so their knees touched. The prospect that even those were gone for good now fully hit home. His stomach dropped. _It’s not the first relationship you managed to ruin and it’s probably not the last._

Tony pulled on a pair of black sleep pants – these had smiling frog faces on them, but they were at the top of his drawer. He found one of his old band t-shirts and tugged it over his head, considered, and then added Rhodey’s MIT sweatshirt that Tony had pilfered nearly thirty years ago. Usually, it made him feel better on bad days even though it had long ago lost its softness. Tony wasn’t holding out much hope for that comforting effect today, but at least he’d be warm.

When Tony opened the door that opened onto the hallway leading to the rest of the Compound, Duke darted out ahead of him and started sniffing intently. No sooner had Tony stepped foot out the door behind him, but the dog’s ears perked up and he took off running.

“Duke!” Tony called after the fleeing canine. It was a futile effort. The dog was off like a shot and nothing was going to hold him back.

Tony jogged to where the hallways split and then split again. “Fri? Where’d he go?” He started to worry that Duke might bite a stranger, though he hadn’t ever bitten anyone at all that Tony was aware of. Still, Tony wasn’t sure if the dog had just adopted everyone that Bucky and Tony liked – or if he still thought Tony needed protecting from new people.

FRIDAY guided Tony through the turns. Fortunately, Tony didn’t come across any doggie accidents and Duke seemed to be heading for the kitchen. Of course… he probably smelled food. Maybe Barton had left a pizza on the counter or something.

“Fri? Is Duke in the kitchen?”

“Yes, he’s currently licking the Captain,” FRIDAY said, sounding very entertained. “Can I say again what a pleasure it is to have you back, Boss?”

“I’m glad to be back, Fri,” he replied automatically. There was a grain of truth there at least.

As Tony jogged toward the common area and the communal kitchen, he was glad Steve was awake. It’d be good to see someone he knew from back then. He hoped maybe they could mend their friendship – at least a little bit.

When he got to the common area, Tony was relieved to hear laughing and not the hellbeast Duke turned into on occasion when he thought Tony was being threatened. There was also a mess… and… “You’re not Steve…” His eyes had to be playing tricks on him.

Definitely Not Steve was wearing a faded navy-blue hoodie with Captain America symbol on the front in rainbow colors and grey sweatpants. _Thank god for grey sweatpants_ , Tony’s hindbrain helpfully pointed out. Eyes wide, _Bucky <_ gently pushed Duke off his lap and stood. “Tony?”

“FRIDAY said…. What are you doing here?” Tony asked, staring.

Bucky looked like he was seeing a ghost. His voice hardly more than a whisper, he said, “I thought you were dead.” Tears filled Bucky’s eyes.

Tony rushed over and reached up to cup Bucky’s face in his hands. His own voice trembled with emotion, “It’s really me, I promise, sweetheart.”

At that, Bucky pulled him into a tight hug and buried his face in Tony’s shoulder and sobbed. Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky and held on like his life depended on it. Right now, he wasn’t sure it didn’t. _How could he have ever doubted Bucky?_ Bucky was mumbling something that Tony couldn’t understand. As Tony cried with relief, he murmured apologies and reassurances whenever his throat let him make words.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Bucky’s shoulders stopped shaking and they both started taking slower breaths. Bucky straightened and moved half a step back so he could examine Tony’s face more thoroughly. “I love you.”

Joy swelled in Tony’s chest. Still riding the wave of overwhelming emotions, a semi-hysterical giggle bubbled out. “That’s sudden,” he said and sniffled again.

“I waited all this time – too long – I didn’t wanna wait anymore,” Bucky said, stroking Tony’s cheek, brushing away Tony’s tears. “I missed you so much, sugar.”

Bucky looked like he was on the verge of tears again, so Tony kissed him lightly at the corner of the mouth. “I love you too and I’m so sorry I left like that… I completely overreacted…. I thought… I didn’t think… until after I got back….”

Resting his forehead against Tony’s, Bucky held him. “It’s my fault… that stupid order for the nurses, right?”

Tony nodded, but couldn’t say anything without the tears starting again.

Bucky rubbed between Tony’s shoulder blades and peppered his forehead with little kisses. His voice shaking with emotion, he said, “After all… after you…” after a deep breath and sniffle, Bucky continued, “How could I pretend after everything you –”

Tony could hear Bucky’s throat click as he swallowed. “I was so upset and overwhelmed with everything… I didn’t think of anything except the worst until I got here… and it was too late,” Tony said, his voice starting to quaver at the end.

“When did you get back?”

“Just an hour or so before I came in here chasing Duke,” Tony replied after clearing his throat. “I had to call Pepper and Rhodey.”

“And took a shower,” Bucky observed, running his fingers through Tony’s hair.

He nodded, “Yeah, it was weird to have all those choices.”

That got a little smile from Bucky and Tony’s heart buoyed. “I couldn’t decide, so I just kept buying Ivory since they still make it. You gave me a hell of a time about being ‘99.44% pure.’”

Tony shook his head, “Wasn’t me… Or not _me_ anyway.”

“Is that something we need to worry about right now?” Bucky asked and it was a real question, not a rhetorical one. “Is there an imbalance or something now?”

“Nah, we’ll figure it out,” Tony said as he nestled into Bucky’s arms, making himself comfortable. With Bucky’s hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, Tony couldn’t have been happier.

“Can’t believe I get to do this,” Bucky murmured.

“I can’t believe you’re _here_ ,” Tony said, giving Bucky another kiss to punctuate the statement. “You grew your hair out!”

At that, Bucky laughed aloud. “Yeah, I did. Figured you might not have remembered it unless you liked it.”

Tony laughed, delighted.

“…And to piss off Nick Fury.”

At that, they both laughed, still holding each other. After a moment of simply soaking up Bucky’s presence, when he thought he could trust his voice to do what he wanted it to, Tony said, “I’m sorry I left without saying good-bye.”

Bucky kissed the side of Tony’s head, nose buried in his hair, “Sorry I gave you a reason to, kitten.” He gave Tony an extra squeeze. “You come up here just to say hello or…?”

“I wanted a snack, actually,” Tony admitted. “…Why are you here?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t sleep very well – too much on my mind, I guess.” He made no move to take his hands of off Tony.

Tony studied Bucky’s face thoughtfully. “And what’s the mess?”

Looking at the spilled milk, Bucky smiled, “Nothing to cry over...”

Tony snorted. “Ha ha. Spilled milk. You’re funny,” he said rolling his eyes, before nuzzling Bucky’s chest, trying to get closer.

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch,” Bucky murmured as he rubbed circles on Tony’s back.

“Nope. You still got it,” Tony agreed, then murmured, “I’ve wanted to be able to do this for a long time.”

“You’re sure you’re not mad?” Bucky asked.

He mulled it over for a moment before he spoke, “Mad, no… my feelings are still a little banged up, though, and I still feel guilty about not trusting you.”

“It hurt when I found out you were gone… and I tried to be mad at you,” Bucky said and shook his head, “but I couldn’t. I just kept coming back to it being my fault.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the center of Bucky’s chest. “It takes two people to miscommunicate. We can move on from it though?”

“I sure hope so. Can’t have my big gay wedding without you,” Bucky said.

“Your what now?” Tony leaned away to look Bucky in the eye.

Chuckling, Bucky said, “You gave me this sweatshirt for my first twenty-first century Christmas. I guess you… It’s weird talking about a Tony that’s not you.”

“Agreed, but please continue. I want to hear about the big gay wedding that I’m a critical part of,” Tony said, resting his hands on Bucky’s hips so he could see his face while maintaining physical contact.

“Okay, anyway, you thought it was funny that I wore it around. I trained with Clint at some of the SHIELD facilities and finally, over coffee, he explained what the rainbow flag was about.” Bucky grinned, “I think I surprised him when I just said, ‘Oh, okay,’ and went back to my coffee. So, a few minutes went by and I asked him if gay marriage was legal yet. All slowly, he says, ‘Yes… since last summer.’ I said, ‘Great – that means I’m in the right place, then.’”

Tony laughed. “Somebody in the coffee shop heard that and made it into a big deal?”

“Wait, it gets better! So then Clint gives me this look – like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking and asks, ‘So, what? Are you planning some kind of big gay wedding or something?’ And I just said, ‘Maybe – depends on what my husband-to-be wants.’ That’s what got overheard and put in the papers. SHIELD had already made such a big deal about passing the Captain America mantle on to me that they couldn’t revoke it. They put me on a morning news show and asked me if I was angry about the rumors or wanted to refute them – I said, ‘Now why would I do that? I fought in a war where people _died_ because of who they loved – why should I care what anyone thinks about my love life?’ …Or something like it. Didn’t shut anybody up, but…” Bucky shrugged.

Tony kissed him full on the lips and felt Bucky sigh and pull him closer, cupping Tony’s cheek with his metal hand. Tony felt the strength in Bucky’s other arm around his waist, steadying him while he stood on his tiptoes to make the most of this kiss. Arms around Bucky’s neck, Tony didn’t pull away until his calves started to burn.

“I love you,” Tony murmured.

They caught up some more while cleaning up the spilled milk in the kitchen and then went back to Bucky’s apartment. Tony lost track of how long they talked, catching up in bits and pieces of stories, remembering their stolen wartime moments together as they had a snack of graham crackers with peanut butter with milk. The sky was beginning to lighten again when Tony finally admitted he was falling asleep.

Bucky bit his lips. “Do you want to stay here with me?”

Tony found Bucky’s sudden shyness absolutely adorable. “That an offer?”

Nodding, Bucky said, “It’s been a while… if it’s too fast, I understand.”

“I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in over a year. The common denominator there is that you weren’t there. If you want me to stay, I will,” Tony said.

When Bucky stood up, Tony expected that he’d give him a hand up, but Bucky scooped him up in a bridal carry to carry him off. Despite his sleepiness, Tony couldn’t help but giggle. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy being manhandled a little bit too.

They were able to make it to bed and after a few minutes of rearranging themselves and getting comfortable, Tony had an arm flung over Bucky’s chest and a leg curled over Bucky’s hip. He used Bucky’s shoulder as a pillow. Bucky had pulled up the blankets, then sprawled out. He covered Tony’s hand with his metal hand.

Duke slept at the foot of the bed, snoring contentedly. By the time FRIDAY turned off the lights, all three were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! It's all finished now! :D


	8. Epilogue

"We shall not cease from exploration - And the end of all our exploring - Will be to arrive where we started - And know the place for the first time."  
**~T. S. Eliot, _Four Quartets_**

**May 2019**

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror and tried to smooth out his hair. He was trying hard not to get overwhelmed by all the memories swirling in his mind right now. Behind him, he could see Steve watching him quietly. Bucky missed the man he’d grown up with but had grown to care about the man Steve was now too.

Both he and Tony had cried together when Bucky had told him about the Winter Soldier killing his parents. They’d gone to the cemetery to pay their respects to Howard and Maria Stark after that talk and when they’d returned to the Compound, Tony had wiped his eyes and asked how he could help bring Steve in, so he’d get the help he needed. Thank God they’d been successful.

Bucky had asked Steve if there was another name he’d rather use, but he’d just shaken his head. “One’s as good as another,” Steve had said. “Yesli ya peredumayu, ya dam vam znat'.” _If I change my mind, I'll let you know._

Bucky’s Russian wasn’t great, but he was learning since it made Steve more comfortable (and so he could understand Natasha when she muttered to herself while baking). He thought that Steve and Natasha had a rocky past based on the agencies they’d each been a part of, but if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, they were dating now. Above basic needs, though, Steve valued his privacy, so Bucky hadn’t asked, trusting Steve to tell him or not in his own time.

Bucky scanned the top of his dresser for his missing cufflink. Where the hell did it go?

“It’s under the…” Steve frowned, trying to find the word he was looking for, Bucky assumed, “babochka galstuk.” _Butterfly (bow) tie._

“Butterfly?” Bucky asked, confused.

Steve gestured as though he was pulling a bow tie tight and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, bow tie! Butterfly… yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, I’m a mess today,” Bucky said. He hadn’t felt this scattered for a long time… probably since Steve had agreed to come back and live at the Avengers Compound.

He just felt overwhelmed with happiness – the extra coffee at lunch hadn’t helped either. Lifting his bow tie, Bucky found his missing cufflink and sorted out his other sleeve.

Even now, Bucky couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Especially now when they’d all come so close to losing everything just a few months ago. Tony had been jogging with Pepper, telling her about the little girl he was in the process of adopting when Doctor Strange’s portal had opened behind them.

Bucky preferred not to spend too much time thinking about what might have happened if Thor’s Stormbringer axe hadn’t cleaved off the Titan Thanos’s arm. The purple alien had raved until spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. With the help of Carol Danvers, the self-proclaimed ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ had taken Thanos to some sort of space prison where he wouldn’t be able to cause the universe any more trouble. To be honest, Bucky hadn’t paid a lot of attention to where they were taking the purple giant as long as it was far away from Earth.

When Thanos had appeared on Earth with all the Infinity Stones, Bucky’s heart had stopped. His appearance meant that Tony and Doctor Strange…. But Thanos had left them all alive – presumably to witness his triumph. Their arrival back on Earth had turned the tide of the battle. Even though they’d been in no condition to fight, just knowing they were alive had been enough for those assembled.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on tying his bow tie and failed again anyway. Dissatisfied with Bucky’s progress, Steve huffed and walked over. “Ty opozdayesh'.” _You’ll be late._ The corners of Steve’s mouth turned up just slightly and his face was more relaxed than it had been in a long time.

Steve’s fingers worked quickly and after a few seconds’ work, he nodded, satisfied. “There. That’s better. Better not make him wait.”

Bucky’s stomach fluttered. “You think he’ll say yes?” He was so nervous he couldn’t quite believe this was really finally happening.

Steve rolled his eyes and cuffed the back of Bucky’s head. “He already said yes, idiot.”

“Right, right.” Bucky smoothed his hands over his jacket. The time over the back of the chair hadn’t wrinkled it too much.

He opened his mouth to voice more of his irrational worries, but Steve interrupted, “He’s trying to say ‘I do’ too. Don’t keep him waiting. He’ll think you got cold feet.”

A knock at the door disrupted Bucky’s anxious mind. Phil Coulson peeked in. “Ready Bucky? It’s time.”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Bucky replied, sounding more together than he felt. _Thank God Steve and Phil were here_ , Bucky thought to himself. He wondered if anyone else would be able to tell how badly he was shaking.

Phil was his best man because Steve had said he’d be uncomfortable standing up in front of everyone. Steve had taken the responsibility of making sure that Bucky got ready in time and would hold Morgan during the ceremony because Tony’s little girl adored her Uncle Steve. His friends guided Bucky to the backyard of the house he would share with Tony where the chairs were set up for their friends and the people they considered family were waiting expectantly.

Steve took his place next to Natasha in the front row. Phil stood a few steps behind Bucky. Jim Rhodes was acting as their officiant because Pepper said she’d cry and wouldn’t be able to say the words properly.

Rhodey gave him an encouraging smile. “You got this, Barnes.”

Bucky refrained from wiping his hands on his pants again. Shouldn’t the music have changed by now? What if Tony changed his mind? Maybe Morgan got sick…. Bucky swallowed his butterflies. _I really shouldn’t have drunk so much coffee today._

Another moment later and Harley Keener’s sister, Jane, walked out, carrying a basketful of herbs like thyme, mint, and scented geranium leaves interspersed with flowers from the still-untamed garden here at the house. Jane had refused to participate if she had to wear a dress, so the eleven-year-old wore a nice blue pantsuit, one of her mother’s necklaces her only nod to traditional femininity.

Then at the end of the aisle, Bucky saw Tony holding Morgan’s hand, chatting with her. Tears pricked Bucky’s eyes. After everything they’d been through, he got to have this. They – got to have this.

Just when Bucky thought he’d completely lose his composure, Tony glanced up and flashed him a smile. Bucky couldn’t help but grin. He probably looked completely besotted, but Bucky didn’t care.

As Tony’s supporter, Pepper guided Morgan to sit with Steve and Natasha before taking her place behind Tony.

* * *

Tony’s heart hammered in his chest. His mind vacillated between, ‘Is this really happening?’ and ‘Oh my god, this is happening!’

While he’d been in physical therapy recovering from that last battle, Bucky had been working on this house. Tony jokingly called it their ‘lake cottage,’ but it was a large Craftsman style home – big enough for their family and several guests. It had been a shambles when Bucky had bought it, but the hours Bucky had put into the place showed.

Tony thought that Bucky had merged the historical style of the building and contemporary style that he himself preferred remarkably well. The interior had the original wood floors, now refinished and waxed. The kitchen and bathrooms, though, had been fully modernized. Clint had complained that tile, countertops, and Bucky were all Tony talked about these days, but what could he say? Tony was proud of all the hard work Bucky had done on the home they were going to share.

He stood facing Bucky, grinning. Tony couldn’t stop smiling now if he tried. Rhodey was going through the version of the ceremony the three of them had written together because Rhodey had refused to try to be solemn and call everyone he knew ‘dearly beloved.’ They’d managed talk him out of calling everyone to attention with ‘Hey you lot of rabble rousers,’ though.

Tony’s mind drifted to when Bucky proposed a year ago. It had been his turn to wash dishes and Bucky helped dry and put away. Bucky had handed him a pair of coffee cups. They hadn’t looked familiar at first glance, but he hadn’t been paying attention either – and frankly, they had a lot of coffee mugs. Usually Bucky started chatting right away, but this time he hadn’t.

He’d glanced at Bucky to see what was wrong. Bucky had looked pensive and was watching him. “What?” Tony had said, plopping the first cup in to the sink of clean sudsy water.

Bucky had winced.

Tony had looked at the other cup in his hands. It said ‘Me?’ and that was all. “Where did this come from? I swear I’ve never seen it before. It’s like they multiply in the cupboard. This one doesn’t even make any sense,” he’d complained.

But when he’d tilted the cup to add it to the sink, something slid inside. Tony had found the ring then and pulled the other, now soapy, mug from the sink. It said, ‘Marry.’ He’d flung his arms around Bucky’s neck and been so happy that Tony had forgotten to empty the Marry mug and poured warm soapy water down Bucky’s back.

He couldn’t help but giggle at the memory and Tony looked up to see both Bucky and Rhodey – and presumably everyone else – watching him. “Oh! It’s my part! I do!”

A ripple of laughter circulated through the attendees. The worry lines in Bucky’s forehead faded and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You gotta say your vows first, sugar,” Bucky whispered while Rhodey struggled and failed to keep a straight face.

Blushing scarlet, Tony mumbled, “Oh, right.” He opened his mouth and couldn’t for the life of him remember which he’d finally decided fit the best. _I solemnly swear to take this gorgeous hunk of man as my very own forever and ever_ , had been nixed as not being serious enough, but that’s all Tony could remember. Everything else came in bits and pieces and he couldn’t for the life of him remember which ones he’d so carefully chosen. But he had to say _something_ because everyone was watching.

“Today I stand before you, ready to start… maybe not the biggest adventure of our lives, but definitely the one I’m looking forward to the most. I love your courage, your sincerity, and your terrible puns. I know now’s when everyone makes a lot of promises, but I don’t know if I can live up to all those ideals. So instead, I give you all that I am. My dreams and my fears. My triumphs and failures. I trust you, and will always try to be worthy of your trust in me. When we come to the bumps along the way, you can depend on me to support and protect you because I love you and that’s the beginning and end of everything.” By the time Tony finished, there were tears in Bucky’s eyes as well as his own.

Bucky took the handkerchief Phil handed him and wiped his eyes. “Deal.” Then Bucky blushed and quickly added, “I accept that for the gift that it is.”

Tony slipped the ring onto Bucky’s finger and gave his hand a squeeze.

Bucky smiled and squeezed back. When Rhodey nodded for Bucky to proceed with his vows, Bucky rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Tony’s hands. “I take you Tony Stark to be my husband. To love and cherish even when you drink the last cup of coffee.” He winked and grinned at Tony, then continued, “Every day with you feels like a new adventure – even when we’re arguing over who’s turn it is to buy dog food. Since we met, there’s no one else I want to share my tomorrows with. I promise to be your partner working toward the same goal: happiness, together.”

Brushing away the few stray tears that had slipped past his eyelashes, Tony smiled. “Deal. I accept that for the gift that it is,” he said, repeating Bucky’s words so they sounded planned instead of completely off-the-cuff.

Bucky slipped the ring onto Tony’s finger.

Rhodey beamed, “Then it is my pleasure to congratulate you, Tony – my oldest friend, and you, Bucky – his partner that by the power the State of New York has given me, you two are legally wed. You may kiss.”

Tony was smiling too much to really kiss properly, but he heard Morgan informing Steve in her childish ‘whisper,’ “Daddy’s kissing Papa!”

Feeling Bucky chuckle into their kiss and hearing Steve’s rough laugh alongside the applause and laughter of the rest of their friends and Morgan’s giggles, the anxiety Tony had felt earlier in the day slipped away. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.

* * *

**December 2019**

“– ny… Tony.” someone was calling his name, but Tony was still exhausted and had no intention of waking up.

“Mpf…” Tony said and hugged the covers tighter around him.

“C’mon, kitten, it’s time to wake up. Morgan’s been awake for two hours and she’s really excited that Santa came,” Bucky said gently. He sat on the bed and combed his fingers through Tony’s hair.

Refusing to open his eyes, Tony asked, “The rest of the kids get here okay?”

Bucky hummed an affirmative. “May drove ‘em in case the roads were icy. They got here about half an hour ago. Harley’s mom and Adventure Jane came too this time.”

The pricking of his conscience at keeping everyone waiting warred with the fatigue that still made it feel like he had sand in his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty,” Bucky said apologetically. “But I’ve got coffee ready and waiting – a big breakfast too,” he added in response to his husband’s groan of dismay. “…When did you finish the wrapping and decorating?”

“Four thirty,” Tony mumbled.

“Ow… no wonder Morgan didn’t wake you up when she came in this morning,” Bucky replied as he yawned. “Thought you might’ve had a late night, though. That’s why I came up instead of unleashing our daughter on you.”

Tony cracked his eyes open. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”

“Merry Christmas, sugar.” Bucky kissed him on the temple. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Sergeant Sexy,” Tony said, turning his head to kiss Bucky back.

Chuckling, Bucky hugged Tony and then scooped him up. “We got time to be sexy later. The kids are waiting. Am I carrying you downstairs or can you get there on your own?”

Tony whined in protest, but when Bucky raised his eyebrows, Tony relented. “Fine…”

“I’ll shoo Peter out of your chair and have your coffee ready in case you want to put on some pants,” Bucky said, smiling before giving Tony one more kiss and heading downstairs to control the chaos.

A few minutes later, Tony stood at the top of the stairs in his red Christmas lounge pants with the Santa Hulks on them, and peeked into the large ‘great room’ full of the family he’d put together. Harley was playing tug-of-war with Duke while Peter was reading _The Night Before Christmas – and Santa Mouse Too!_ May Parker and Maggie ‘don’t call her Magnolia if you want to live, Old Man’ Keener periodically interrupted their catch-up chat to observe the goings on.

Tony’s coffee waited for him, as promised next to his chair. As Tony hovered at the top of the stairs, the bell rang, announcing Steve and Natasha’s arrival. Tony was happy to see Pepper and Rhodey walk in with them. If he wasn’t mistaken, there might be some romance blossoming there, but he was going to pretend to be oblivious for now.

Tony rubbed his eyes and yawned as he walked downstairs. His tiredness was his own fault for thinking that as a genius he should be able to assemble a tricycle in less than an hour (or 3 as it turned out) and for putting off wrapping his share of gifts. But with their house filled with the people they loved best and the angel on the top of their tree holding the foil star Bucky had made for him the first Christmas after they’d met, Tony couldn’t ask for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it! :D Drop me a line and let me know and shout your love for @Taste_Is_Sweet's art too!!! This wouldn't exist without it! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the wonderful @[Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet) for their fabulous photo manip of a wartime Tony (& the delicious banner too!). Their work inspired this and I'm glad it worked out that I got to write for it! :) 
> 
> Also a big thank you and many kudos to @[rudearrow](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/rudearrow/pseuds/rudearrow) and @[LoveMeSomeRafael](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveMeSomeRafael/pseuds/LoveMeSomeRafael) for their wondrous beta abilities! :D It was and is greatly appreciated! :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Time Is on My Side (Yes It Is)" by Faustess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348508) by [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet)




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